


Drive Me Wild

by KirkwallsChamp



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Custom Hawke, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Purple, Purple Hawke, Slow Burn, Smut, the whole shebang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6492349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkwallsChamp/pseuds/KirkwallsChamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric and Hawke must decide what things mean for them once and for all when he is accepted to graduate school for his Masters in Business Administration at the UFA (University of Ferelden under Andraste).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a soundcloud, at which I'm uploading an audiobook version of this story! Chapter 1 can be found here, https://soundcloud.com/nornborn/drive-me-wild-chapter-1

**Hawke tucked her legs underneath her** as neatly as she could, falling into the beaten, weathered couch while nursing a cup of coffee that was just slightly too full. Aveline and Donnic had woken her up with noisy early morning kisses and chuckles from the bedroom they shared with her-- unbeknownst to them, she usually put up with the act, seeing as they didn't exactly get a lot of alone time in the shared domicile; today, however, she was feeling a bit... unsettled.

She'd received the text last night, after she heard boots thumping past her bedroom door, pausing only briefly.

[Mr. Smooth 1:42 AM]  
[Bartrand was holding out on me. results are here, but i need someone to open them with. txt me if you feel like being that person? ]

Given the time, she remembered promptly rolled over and sleeping for the next six hours-- not even bothering a reply. He was upstairs, for the maker's sake, and if he couldn't just come wake her up for this, then she wouldn't do the same to him.

She faltered halfway through a sip of her coffee, choking out a frustrated groan at the drink when it dribbled down the front of her red sweater.

"Smooth," a familiarly gravelly voice nearly had her dumping the rest of the mug into the old couch cushions, if not for Hawke's quick reflexes kicking in, "Very endearing, wearing your coffee. I'm surprised your not beating the others off with a stick by now."

Hawke barely resisted the urge to make a comeback about beating something else off, which earned her a raised eyebrow from the stocky blonde sauntering into view.

"Good morning, Varric," she grumbled instead, finally setting down her drink on the coffee table in front of her.

"Good morning to you, too," His reply was yawned, his eyes scrunching tight as he did. It was strangely endearing.

"Is the coffee fresh?"

Hawke nodded, "Clean mugs are in the dishwasher."

As Varric made his way to the kitchen, Hawke glanced over her shoulder to watch him go. A crisp, white envelope stuck out of the back pocket of his jeans-- upon seeing it, her heart gave a faint thump.

"Ugh, why does no one even try to put the dishes away," Varric grumbled absentmindedly as he grabbed his cup off the top rack.

"Varric, is that...?" Hawke's voice wavered slightly as she pointed to the envelope, her question trailing as he turned back to meet her gaze.

"What, this?" he asked, pulling it from his back pocket with a shrug, "I didn't get a reply last night, so I assumed you'd just as soon wait and hear it from somebody else."

"It was two in the morning, you ass," she groaned, flopping back in her seat.

"No, no, I totally understand," he continued, stepping back into the living room with a smirk heavy in his voice, "I'll just wait for Daisy and open it then. Don't worry yourself with  _my_ future."

  
That was it, after all-- that's what caused the ache in the pit of her stomach. Her best friend had reached a crossroads in his life while her's was standing still.

 

Varric joined her on the beaten up cushions, and she plucked the envelope from his fist as he balanced the coffee between his thumbs. He groaned in reply, attempting to reach and take it back from her, but she swatted him away.

"The suspense is killing me--" She moaned, waving it in his face, "Open it already!"

After a moment, he retrieved it from her, the gentle brush of their fingers caused a little drop in the pit of Hawke's stomach. their eyes met briefly before he shook his head.

"Fine. I've waited on this long enough. Bartrand told me he left it on the table at his place for like, 3 days. Some brother."

He slipped the tip of his thumb into the corner of the envelope, watching with grim satisfaction as the adhesive strip parted carefully.

Hawke held her breath as she watched him unfold the letter gently, his eyes scanning the page.

"Mr Tethras, we.... to inform you..." his voice faded in and out as he read under his breath, pausing to sharply inhale.

Hawke looked at him expectantly, shifting at the slight discomfort of the moment.

"What?"

"I... I did it," He said, the disbelief ringing in his voice, "I made it into the MBA program at UFA."

Everything else seemed to die away as the realization dawned between them-- Varric's samples of research and writing, the sleepless nights they'd spent preparing and sending off his initial application-- everything culminated to this victory. Hawke threw her arms around him, squealing excitedly, "I knew you had it in you!"

a thumping from above alluded to the possibility of Fenris and Isabela having awoken. Shortly after, it was confirmed as a pair of tattooed feet, and ankles wrapped in gold bangles appeared on the stairwell.

"What's going on now?" Isabela squinted at the morning sunlight streaming through the dusty windows.

"He got in!" Hawke grinned, clapping Varric lightly on the shoulder, "He did it!"

"Did he now?" Isabela mimicked with a grin.

"This is a cause for celebration, then," Fenris nodded with a small smile.

The back door through the kitchen creaked on it's hinges as a dark haired girl gently padded into view.

"Are we having a party tonight?" Merrill asked, walking in and flopping onto a slightly less beat up couch against the wall.

Hawke looked expectantly at Varric, scooping her coffee mug up once more. When he simply shrugged at her, she gave him no further time to think it over.

"We have to! This is a big deal! Get everyone we know involved-- We'll gather the supplies and throw a real rager tonight."

At that moment, Aveline stuck her head out the door of her and Hawke's room, "Maker, Hawke-- a 'Rager'? how old are you?"

Hawke rolled her eyes.

Everyone filed into the living room to deliver their congratulations in their own ways; Fenris and Isabela departed quickly after, on their way to the coffee shop they both worked at, while Aveline and Donnic took the opportunity to give Varric a gentle hug, and slipped back into the bedroom.

Soon they were alone once more, save for Merrill, who had rolled onto her back and put her feet on the wall. She hummed a soft tune.

"Congratulations, Varric. You'll go on to do great things," she said, before closing her eyes and smiling.

"Thanks, Daisy," He winked in return, "That means a lot, coming from you."

She simply nodded, continuing to hum her tune and stare up at the cieling for a moment longer. Deciding on some thought she had with a nod, she spun back up to a sitting position, now regarding Hawke expectantly.

"I'm headed back to the studio today-- Did you want to go together? I'm almost done with the Eluvien," Merrill asked.

Hawke wrestled her feet out from under herself, considering carefully, "I mean, I didn't really have a plan to work on anything today, but..."

Varric jabbed her with his elbow, "Come on, Hawke, you've been avoiding the sculpture studio for almost a week."

She groaned, leaning heavily against him in response.

"Don't remind me."

She was working on her final course of the semester for her art degree, but it wasn't going the way she'd hoped-- she was stalled on ideas for her final project. Merrill didn't give in, however.

Her big green eyes sparkled, "Come with me-- just for a little bit! You don't need to do any work today, just... Just make it in the door."

Hawke felt bad. She knew deep down the longer she put off the project, the more trouble she'd be in-- and Merrill was just watching out for her, but... She was beginning to feel the call of procrastination. Planning a party for Varric seemed like a perfect out. Nonetheless, she finally gave in, to appease her fellow artist.

"Fine," she declared at last, "One little visit to the studio while I get the supplies for Varric's party tonight, okay?"

"Wonderful!" Merrill clapped happily, before standing, "I'll be in my room, getting ready. Come get me when you want to leave."

The silence settled as Merrill exited the kitchen to the stand-alone garage that had been converted to her room. Suddenly they were alone, and the same worries prickled dully at the back of Hawke's mind like an unattended itch. Varric seemed to notice the tension, however.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Hawke began, running a hand up the back of her neck, "I just..."

Varric shook his head, "I think I know what you're talking about, and... don't worry about it right now. Go get ready for some work, and then go get Merrill. I'll drive you down to the studio, okay?"

He didn't wait for a reply, however, as he drained his coffee and headed back up the stairs to his room. Hawke sighed, getting to her feet and gathering their mugs. She deposited them in the sink before heading back to her room and knocking on the door.

"Aveline? Are you and Donnic decent? I need a change of clothes."

She could hear Aveline and Donnic scrambling from behind the door.

"D-don't come in-- give us a minute!"

She sighed, before groaning into the door, "Never mind!" and began to make her way up the stairs to Varric's room as well. His door was closed, but she paid little mind to it.

Varric had his back to her when she entered the room, a worn red v-neck and jeans lying on his bed specially picked out for the day.

"Aveline and Donnic busy?" He chuckled, looking over his shoulder.

"Are you surprised? They're moving out next week, and they've been going at it like rabbits since they got together-- it's like they WANT to alienate me in our shared  
space."

"Don't blame them-- college love is intoxicating," he grinned, beginning to get dressed for the day, "besides, you'll miss sharing a room with them. I know it."

"I feel like nowadays it's more often that I share a room with you," Hawke chuckled in return, glancing out the window as Varric threw his pajama shirt onto the floor. He stood shirtless for a moment, admiring his reflection in a wall mirror Hawke had dragged up to his room.

"I can't believe you made me keep this up here,"

She caught him flex his arms for a moment before she outright laughed.

"I was punishing Aveline for the night she locked me out! Besides, it helped you get an internship, when you needed to pick out an outfit and practice looking... practiced," she smirked.

"Whatever," Varric smiled, rolling his eyes.

Hawke moved over to the bed, sitting down for a moment.

"Did I leave any clothes up here? I can't wear this down to the studio if I am actually going to get any work done..."

"I'm not sure...." Came Varric's reply, as he opened a drawer on his dresser, and dug around, "Doesn't look like it."

Hawke groaned, "Shit. I'll have to brave the warzone, then..."

"No no, don't worry about it, Hawke. I've still got the shirt you ruined last time."

He pulled out a beat up gray t-shirt and threw it to her. She unfolded it, admiring it for a moment.

"It's not ruined, it just has a little paint on it. Still totally wearable."

Varric smiled.

"Take it then, its yours."

"Aw, you're so sweet," Hawke joked, motioning for him to turn around while she threw it on. He seemed un-phased by the request, though her heart skipped a beat when she noticed him glance at her reflection in the mirror.

"You're not being clever, you know," she groaned over her shoulder. His ears burned red as she watched him physically turn away this time. She heard him shuffle around as he got dressed as well, his pajama pants pooling at his feet. He wrestled into the rugged jeans he'd laid out as Hawke waited turned away from him. She changed shirts quickly, ignoring the heat in her cheeks, before throwing the red sweater she'd had on previously in his face.

"that's for thinking you were slick," she grumped, at the same time unable to hold back a slight grin.

"Come on, Hawke-- I got distracted. Do you blame me?" was the only response he could come up with as he tugged on his own familiar red v-neck, "Also, Maker-- Aveline's right. How old are you? 'Slick', 'Rager', you sound like an old parish sister."

"Hmm, well I must fit right in with the Campus sisters, then." Hawke pouted, stepping toward the door, "You said you'll drive us to the studio, right?"

"That I did," Varric nodded, giving the taller girl a pat on the arm, "I've got some errands to run anyway."

  
Together they descended the stairs and made their way out of the house. Hawke knocked as loudly as she could on her bedroom door as they walked past, "Aveline-- I expect and and Donnic to be up and around by the time I'm back! No dirty stuff in the shared spaces, okay?! I've got cameras!"

"Maker's breath Hawke, we're not horny teenagers!" came a call from behind the door.

"Tell that to my brother!" Hawke called, turning to see Varric snickering from outside. Carver had visited relatively recently, and was borrowing Hawke's bed for the evening, when he had the misfortune of walking in on one of Aveline and Donnic's rare nights off. He still claimed that Hawke had set him up.

Merrill was already loading her tools into the trunk when Hawke joined her and Varric at the cherry red convertible.

"Good morning, Bianca," Varric crooned, giving the car a sentimental rub.

Hawke rolled her eyes, "Oh my god, he's talking to the car."

"A----nd guess who'll be _walking_ to campus," Varric joked, opening the door for Merrill. She entered quietly, giving Hawke a quizzical look.

"It's a beautiful day, so a walk wouldn't be so bad," she shrugged, "But-- oh, you're not being serious."

"No, I'd never make you walk, Daisy," He flashed a grin.

Varric always had been a charmer, and his constantly flirtatious nature kept everyone on their toes-- Hawke could never tell if he was interested in anyone; particularly Merrill,

or herself.


	2. time to focus up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a soundcloud, at which I'm uploading an audiobook version of this story! chapter 2 is here, https://soundcloud.com/nornborn/drive-me-wild-chapter-2

**As Varric put the top down and began the short drive to campus, Hawke tried to shoo away the thoughts that dredged themselves up.**

He was a flirt. He'd always been a flirt. He thrived on the attention of others, whether he realized it or not. When he flirted with his friends, he was simply being himself.

And yet.

There was always something that registered differently in the back of her mind about the way they shared a connection. He was so... gentle around her. Like, the flirtatiousness would gradually fade away, and she was left with a quiet and comfortable friend, who thought deeply and shared his life with a degree of humility he didn't show freely to everyone else. Like he was revealing himself. Her train of thought ended quite abruptly, however, when she recognized a mop of long blonde hair pulled up in a loose bun standing in front of the heavy doors of the art studio.

"Are you shitting me?"

Varric noticed just moments later as they pulled up to the building, and threw the car into park. He watched as Hawke visibly slumped in the front seat, crumpling up small and trying to hide under the window. Varric helped Merrill unload her tools, and gave her a little wave as she gave the car a quizzical look.

"Aren't you coming in?" she called, clearly unaware of who stood just beyond her at the door.

"We'll catch up in a little bit," Varric chided with a smile, before loading himself back into the driver's seat. He shifted into drive easily, and they departed in silence. He allowed her a few moments to catch her breath and talk to him, but when she gave no indication of doing so, he finally broke.

"I'm sorry-- guess I didn't realize you were avoiding the studio because _he_ might be there, but..."

"Please, that has nothing to do with it."

"Hawke,"

the look he gave her was enough proof that he didn't believe her, "It's okay if you don't want to go."

She shook her head. Usually he didn't pry like this-- when he found out about the breakup, she thought he'd been supportive-- until she found out that the night that Anders got himself into trouble, it was Varric who helped him get out of it.

"I still can't believe you borrowed enough money from Bartrand to bail him out..." she muttered.

"Hawke, like it or not he's still a friend of ours," Varric cautioned, throwing an arm around her seat as he spoke, "And I know you guys ended on bad terms, but he was just doing what he felt he had to do."

"Having me get all his art supplies, and getting caught defacing a public building were not things he _had_ to do!" Hawke snapped, surprised at her own outburst, "He could have gotten _me_ arrested! He made sure my fingerprints were _all_ over those paint cans!"

Varric withdrew his arms, putting them up defensively, "I know, I know. I'm sorry I insinuated that. You know I agree with you. I'm just saying... You're probably going to run into him again. You can't be afraid of him, or what he did."

She laughed in a short, clipped burst.

"I'm not afraid. I'm livid."

"Be that as it may," Varric shrugged, "At least _try_ to be civil."

Hawke nodded, after a moment.

"I'll _try_ ," she said dryly, watching the road as they made their way into town.

They fell into comfortable silence as they drove onward, Varric humming softly along to the radio. They headed toward the local grocery store, the Black Emporium, to pick up supplies for the party that evening.  
  
Hawke's phone buzzed as she received a text message.

  
[Merrill 11:08AM]  
[What happened? Is everything okay?]

  
She sighed, unlocking the device as she thought of what to say.

  
[ME 11:09AM]  
[Got cold feet. Sorry. I'll have Varric bring me back around after we get party supplies. I promise.]

  
Another buzz.

  
[Merrill 11:09AM]  
[Okay. Hey, Anders is here and asking about you. Said you haven't been returning his calls?]

[ME 11:10AM]  
[Don't say anything about me-- I don't want to talk to him.]

 

The phone was silent for a few moments. Varric looked over at his passenger, concern edging onto his features.

"Everything all right?" He asked.

Hawke sighed, "Merrill ran into _him_ at the studio. He wants to know why I'm not returning his calls."

"Are you surprised?" Varric snorted, keeping his eyes on the road. They pulled into the parking lot as Hawke contemplated some sort of answer. She supposed she wasn't surprised he was upset that she cut off all contact, but she wasn't ready to confront him on it just yet. Her phone vibrated in her hand as a message came through.

[Merrill 11:15AM]  
[I'm so sorry-- I didn't get your message until too late... I told him about the party tonight, and he said he might come. Please don't be mad at me! :/ ]

  
Hawke cupped her head in her hands, groaning loudly through her teeth. Varric looked her over quietly.

"He's coming over tonight," She moaned, "Kill me now."

"There's no good place to hide the body," Varric replied dryly, getting out of the car. He put the top back up on the vehicle as Hawke got out, and reached for the pack of cigarettes in his cup holder. He retrieved one for himself, gripping it lightly between his teeth, and offered one to the tall girl beside him. She took it wordlessly, waiting for him to offer a light.

The flush of nicotene felt like delicious relief for her angry blood. She took a long drag and blew it out her nose, ignoring the burning sensation, and eyed her short friend as she did so. He was smiling just slightly, puffing on his own. After a bit they extinguished their respective cigarettes, and Hawke passed the unlit half back to Varric. He chuckled, pocketing the pack and motioning for her to follow him inside.

They made a bee-line for the liqour section, giving the cashier a little wave. He gave no response, just continuing to read the magazine he'd propped up on his register.

"What kind of alcohol are you thinking for tonight?" Varric prompted, picking up different bottles and examining them.

"Anything that will get me so blacked out I don't remember tomorrow?"

Varric didn't seem to approve of that response.

"Sorry... I guess at least some Antivan wine of some kind, maybe a brandy? Oooh, let's get this!"

Hawke brandished a bottle of Alvarado's Bathtub Boot Screech in Varric's direction. He laughed, massaging the bridge of his nose as he spoke, "You show me that every time. What makes you think it's even good?"

"Have you read the description? _If you can read this, you haven't drunk it_."

Varric checked his phone as Hawke picked up a basket and deposited the liquor inside.

"Oh, that was Isabela. She requests a bottle of _Carnal_."

"Ohh, sounds sexy."

"I think it's for some kind of sweet cocktail."

He searched for a moment before grabbing a bottle down and placing it in Hawke's basket.

They searched a few more bottles, before selecting their final choices and mixers, and making their way toward the front of the store once more. A special bottle caught Hawke's eye as they nearly reached the register, and she grinned, pointing it out to Varric.

"How about one more bottle?"

"What is that-- Flames of Our Lady? Hawke, that's such a freshman tradition!"

Hawke chuckled, "You love it," and popped one more bottle into the basket. They approached Xenon at the register with a little smile and wave. He sighed, giving them a hardened look.

"I feel like I _should_  be carding you two, but what's the point? I'm pretty sure you two are the reason we stay in business."

"Oh thanks, Xenon," Hawke chuckled, "For reminding me about how we sate our alcoholism here."

"I'm just calling it as I see it," the cashier shrugged, "Need any bags?"

"Yes, please," Hawke nodded, pulling out her wallet and offering up a silent, tender thought.

_Sorry, Mom. Hope you'll forgive me for the indulgence. Tonight it's for a good reason, I promise._

She handed her card over and together they loaded their haul back into the car.

"Do you feel like trying to go to the studio again?" Varric asked quietly as he started the car.

Hawke considered for a moment before sighing.

"Fine. Will you come in with me?"

Varric's gaze softened when he looked at her, "Hawke... I'm sorry, you know I've got some errands to run today..."

"Oh,"

She seemed disappointed, but tried to be chipper, "No, I know, and I don't want to take you away from that, I just thought..."

"I'm sorry," he apologized again, as an awkward silence fell over them. Hawke dug her phone from her pocket, looking at Merrill's text once again. She contemplated a reply, before putting her phone down once again. She didn't know quite how to phrase her feelings, after all.

Varric turned the radio up and hummed along again as they made their way back to the studio. When they pulled up, Anders was no longer waiting outside, much to Hawke's relief. She began to exit the car, when a hand on her shoulder gave her pause.

"Hey, you can do this, all right?" Varric quipped, giving her an encouraging smile.

She gulped back a bundle of nerves in her throat, giving him a nod as she dragged herself away.

Without another look back at the shiny convertible, she went into the studio, passing the gallery and heading back to the student's working area. She located the area reserved for art majors, finding her special cubicle, and setting out her supplies in silent contemplation. She needed to get to work. She needed to make a plan.

She couldn't avoid it any longer.

* * *

 

Varric sidled in to a booth at a chain coffee shop just outside town, wrestling his laptop out of his computer bag. He popped a pair of headphones out of his bag, and took a deep breath.

As his chat software loaded, he took a deep draught on his coffee, and at last he typed out a message to a contact simply labelled [B].

  
[VTethras 11:30AM]  
[B, can you talk? I've got some great news.]

  
It took a few moments, but a loading icon indicated he was being answered, and it made his heart jump for just a moment.

  
[B 11:33AM]  
[V, it's not really a good time... I <do> want to talk though, so let me see what I can do.]

[VTethras 11:33AM]  
[No, please, if it's not a good time, then don't worry about it-- I just wanted to tell you because I'm excited.]

[B 11:33AM]  
[Give me five minutes, big guy.]

  
Varric sat in nervous silence, watching the clock tick the minutes by. He was just about to take another drink of coffee when the call signal appeared on his screen. With a start, he answered it, adjusting his volume and camera, and made sure he wasn't muted.

When no one answered, and no camera image appeared after a moment, he cleared his throat.

"Bianca?"

"Varric, try to speak quickly and quietly-- I don't have a lot of time."

"Bianca," he tried again, adjusting his volume, "It's good to hear your voice."

He could hear the slight smile in hers, "Your's too, big guy. What's your news?"

"Oh! Yeah!" He steadied himself, "I got accepted to the UFA Master's program. I'm going to be moving out over the next month or so, and from then on I'll be in Haven."

She shushed him quietly with a chuckle, "I know how important it is to you. Congratulations."

He heard some rustling from another room on her end of the chat. She seemed to shift near the mic uncomfortably.

"I have to go, Varric."

"It's him, isn't it?" Varric couldn't help but ask. When he was met with silence, he sighed, and deflated visibly.

"Don't do this right now," She cautioned, "I have to go. I'll talk to you again some other time, okay? Congratulations."

With that, she disconnected, and he was left feeling utterly defeated and alone in the booth once more.


	3. Liquid Courage

**He sat parked in the studio lot for the better part of an hour, trying to will the hollow ache in his chest away**. He smoked another cigarette and was halfway through his second when he received a text. Taking a drag, he checked the preview on his lock screen.

[Birdbrain 4:00 PM]  
[So... You coming back to pick us up, or do Merrill and I have to walk home?]

He chuckled dryly to himself, leaning back in his chair and typing out a response.

[ME 4:00PM]  
[I've been waiting out here forever. Hurry up.]

  
Hawke's answer popped back immediately,

  
[Birdbrain 4:01PM]  
[Come inside instead. You've got to see the cool stuff Merrill's working on.]

[ME 4:01PM]  
[Fine. Be in soon.]

He exited and locked the car in a fluid motion, heading inside while extinguishing his lit cigarette on the brick building's wall, and blowing the last of the smoke out of his lungs as he entered.

To his surprise, Hawke was waiting for him just beyond the door, smirking.

"Wow, what a cool entrance," She joked, "You can really feel the hipster angst."

Varric wanted to laugh, but truth be told, he couldn't muster it at the moment. When he didn't, Hawke picked up on his mood.

"Hey, what's going on?"

He shook his head, willing himself to act chipper, "Nothing. I just... have a lot on my mind."

"Varric..."

This time he managed a smile.

"I'm _fine_ , Hawke. Don't worry about it."

He motioned for her to show him the way back to the studio, even though he had been there quite a few times before.

"Was my entrance really that cool?" He joked, pushing his feelings to the back of his mind.

The two bantered for a moment as they navigated around the gallery, to the open sculpture studio beyond until they came upon Merrill's cubicle. Varric hadn't seen the project in months-- relying on updates only when it came up in conversation. That being said, it was intimidating to see it full scale after so long. She had finally finished shaping the ironbark at the mirror's base, and had pieced together half of the shattered mirror pane since he'd seen it last. It was a piece she'd built from scratch, after finding a dissertation on her native people's lost art forms. He didn't remember the full explanation, save for the fact that the mirror was shattered to represent her people's crumbling, but pieced back together knowledge of their history. He thought it was an intricate, smart piece.

Merrill had just returned from the bathrooom as they looked on, applying the last of several bandages. Hawke scooped up her hand worriedly, checking for any missed spots and scolded the pale girl for not being more careful.

Varric winced inwardly when he realized that if Hawke knew why he was so upset, she might scold him too. The only information she had garnered about Bianca during the entirety of the group's shared schooling was that she was a former flame of Varric's, and that things had ended poorly. She'd managed to put together on her own that Varric had bought Bianca, the car, around the time that they'd broken up.

What Varric never told Hawke, was that he was given the money for a car on the stipulation that he'd never contact Bianca again, by her parents.

That, and the fact that he'd never stopped contacting her. They'd just gotten better at hiding it.

It was at that moment he realized that Hawke had been staring at him, and waiting on a reply. When he finally made eye contact with her and she prompted him expectantly, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Hawke looked slightly crestfallen.

"N-nothing, don't worry about it, Varric. C'mon, lets go back home and get ready for the party."

It was Merrill's turn to scold her this time, "Hawke-- no! You were finally excited about an idea for a piece-- Show him the proposal!"

"Merrill, it's fine. I'll show it off another time-- I still haven't gotten permission to start it anyway. It's just a sketch right now."

Varric's ears burned in embarassment; he should have been listening, instead of getting stuck inside his own head.

"Come on, Hawke, let's see your idea. I know you want to show it to me," Varric prompted, motioning for Hawke to show him the way.

Tentatively, Hawke gave in, and led her companions to the back corner of the room, where her cubicle stood alone. When they entered, she scooped a folder off her desk, along with a few different scraps of paper. One in particular stood out to Varric--

"We need to talk. Please stop ignoring me"

Hawke squirmed as she pointed to the rightmost corner of her cubicle.

"It's just an idea right now," she said, "Don't judge it too hard."

The sketch on the wall was sprawled over a few thick pieces of paper on the wall, in rough charcoal and multi-colored chalk. It depicted a gigantic stone and metal figure held in a contorted posisition by red threads. The figure had interspersed throughout it gigantic red crystaline growths, also wrapped in the same constricting red thread.

"It's... interesting," Varric said, reading raw emotion, but not sure what else, from the piece.

"It's beautiful," Merrill corrected him with a smile. Hawke shuffled embarassedly in place.

"It's not that great," She said with a groan, "Now lets go home. Some of our guests are going to be at our place soon."

Varric suddenly remembered, "Ah shit-- I forgot to invite Bartrand to the party," and began to pull out his phone instinctively. Hawke waved him off, however.

"I took care of it. I knew you'd either elect to leave him out, or forget like this, so i called him a couple hours ago. I know you two don't get along, but he's gotten you _and me_  out of some bad scrapes before. He said he might stop by, but don't count on it."

Together they all piled out of the art studio and back into the parking lot. Varric helped Merrill reload her tools as Hawke claimed the front seat. Each of them was in their own little world as they drove back to the house, Hawke absentmindedly rubbing the charcoal dust off her fingers with her t-shirt. Varric caught himself glancing at the amount of chest she revealed in doing so, and had to remind himself to look away again quickly to avoid getting caught.

Sometimes he forgot just how often his best friend caught his eye.

* * *

The sun was already set as the party slipped into full gear. Though they lived off campus, the group had made enough friends to throw a fairly well-attended event, and the house was overrun with as many people as they could fit, including their makeshift back porch.

The main portion of the party was squeezed into the living room, where Hawke, Varric, Isabela and Merrill were doing shots. When Aveline and Donnic stepped into view, Hawke gave them a drunken wave, calling, "Aveline! Donnic! Come do some shots! We've got the Flames of Our Lady!"

The bottle sloshed in her hands as she spoke, uncorking the spirit and doling out shots to everyone with an empty glass.

"Maker, how does the tradition go?" Aveline laughed, wrapping an arm around Hawke and Varric as they ramped up the mood.

"According to school legend, you _take a single draught, shout, 'She is with us,' and throw the remainder into a fireplace. In the North, draw steel and march!_ "** Hawke recited the ode with a grin. When everyone's shotglass had been filled, they raised their toasts.

"Everyone on three," She instructed, "To Varric's Success! And, One, Two, Three--"

the room resounded with, "She is with us!" as they tossed back the firey liquid. With gusto, they tossed the remainder of the nearly empty bottle into the fireplace, the room erupting with cheers when the liquid flared the flames slightly. Everyone seemed in high spirits, except the man the party was being thrown for.

Hawke noticed out of the corner of her eye that Bartrand had pulled him aside, the two of them talking in hushed whispers on the couch. With a sigh, she realized she might need to pull the two away from each other before the night was done-- she decided she wasn't feeling quite buzzed enough to handle that yet, and made her way to the kitchen to pour another drink.

Set out on the kitchen table were many of the different choices she and Varric had selected during that day; Isabela came into view and hooked an arm over Hawke's shoulder, setting her temple against Hawke's own.

"You are throwing a great party," she smiled.

"I wish the honoree was enjoying it more," Hawke answered with a small smile of her own, "He's been on edge since he picked up Merrill and I at the studio this afternoon. I don't know what's going on..."

"A lot's changing," Isabela agreed, "Could be he's realizing just how much will change with this... I mean, things are going to be really different without him around. Besides-- You're graduating next semester, along with Fenris and I, and Merrill isn't long after that. Things really are going to be different."

"Ugh, I need a drink," Hawke laughed, "I don't want to think about that either. No wonder he's in a bad mood."

"Well, here. This'll make sure you enjoy yourself a little more," Isabela winked, mixing Hawke a cocktail with the liquor she'd asked Varric to buy, "Very sweet and easy to drink. Also, makes for fantastic foreplay."

Hawke wasn't exactly surprised at the insinuation, but laughed the comment off nonetheless, "Thanks, Isabela, but I don't think I'll need anything like that any time soon."

"Things still soured with Anders, then?" Isabela sighed, "I was really pushing for you two."

"He told me he'd only bring me trouble, and he was right," Hawke shrugged, "The things I liked about him didn't outweigh the things that we disagreed on."

"That's too bad," Isabela said quietly, "Because I think he just walked in."

She motioned over Hawke's shoulder, and when she turned, she found her former boyfriend standing in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers. He gave a sheepish half smile when they made eye contact, and he motioned to the back door. Hawke's grip on her drink tightened, unsure of how to respond.

"Do you want me to leave you two alone? I can clear the deck, if you'd like," Isabela asked, placing a comforting hand on Hawke's shoulder.

With a small nod, Hawke complied, "That might be best... I've been avoiding him long enough, I guess."

  
Varric noticed Anders come in the front door tentatively-- flowers in hand, and clearly not there to wish him well for his acchievement. He scanned the room for Hawke, and when he noticed her in the kitchen, he tried to get her attention, to no avail. Bartrand snorted loudly, "I thought you wanted my advice on the situation, but I guess that's out of the question, little brother."

Anders and Hawke slipped out of view through the back door, and Varric stifled a groan. Judging by how Hawke reacted in the car before, he knew it was likely to end in a shouting match, and he didn't want to be the one to break things up again. But, he needed to deal with Bartrand first.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, not paying full attention to the conversation any longer, "I... I know what the right answer is. I just can't get myself to believe it. I _know_  I'm being irrational,"

"And nothing I say is going to change that, huh Varric?" Bartrand sighed, "All right. I know when I've overstayed my welcome. Just.. Do me a favor. When you get settled out there, give me a call. We need to put your first business degree to <some> use before we can justify the family bankroll on the second."

"I understand," Varric nodded, "And I'll make sure you're the first person I call. Thanks, Bartrand."

"No problem," his brother grinned, "Hey-- do me a favor, tell Hawke I'm still really interested in commissioning something for outside the Tethras co. building."

"Oh, her art's finally growing on you, eh?" Varric seemed surprised by the suggestion.

"Eh, its big and foreboding, and usually turns a few heads. If that's what we need to drum up business, I'll take my chances," Bartrand shrugged, much to Varric's chagrin. He'd never been good at understanding the emotion driven through Hawke's pieces. It was likely he never would.

Varric sighed, "I'll elect to _not_ tell her you said that. But I'll pass the message along. I assume the pay will be good?"

"We'll work something out," Bartrand chuckled, "If it looks expensive, we'll pay for it."

With that, he walked away and Varric noted the thinning of the crowd from their front room. He took this moment to slip up to his room, opening a window in the stairwell above the deck to see if he could hear shouting.

Instead, he was surprised to hear laughter, still somewhat choked and tentative, but there nonetheless. Hawke's voice floated through the window, "I can't believe this-- See, this is why it's so hard! I--"

Varric willed himself to close the window, and stay out of it. The two always ran on high emotionally, and he didn't want to add another flame to the fuel, should things come tumbling back down in a moment. They weren't fighting now, and he promised himself that he'd stay out of it unless absolutely necessary.

Something else had already caught his attention, however.

He'd left his computer on when he went downstairs for the party, and now a message had popped up on his chat program.

[B 10:52 PM]  
[V, can we talk? I feel like things didn't end well last time.]

[B 10:55 PM]  
[Please... He's not here anymore-- he went home an hour ago.]

[B 10:57 PM]  
[I know how you feel about him, but you can't blame me-- My parents would kill me if they found out we were still talking.]  
[you understand that, right?]  
[I'm just trying to protect us, and throw off their trail.]

[B 11:15 PM]  
[Fine. I see how it is. I guess I'll talk to you another time, then.]

His heart leapt to his throat as he realized what'd happened. He struggled to try and salvage the situation, though her icon showed that she was no longer online.

[VTethras 11:30 PM]  
[B, wait-- are you still there? I was downstairs-- we're throwing a party tonight, I didn't get any of your messages until now.]

  
he waited a few moments, before trying again.

[VTethras 11:33 PM]  
[Please, don't be upset. I'm not mad.]  
[Call me when you can?]

[B 11:33 PM]  
[I don't have anything to say. It's clear you don't care about my side of things.]

[VTethras 11:34 PM]  
[Please don't say that. Please.]

[B 11:34 pm]  
[Why else would you ignore me for so long? I'm going to bed, Varric.]  
[I'll talk to you some other time.]

 

He cursed himself for leaving the program on to idle while he wasn't there-- now she was upset and he didn't have a way to fix it.

This happened with her, from time to time. They grew upset with one another and it always exploded into something bigger than it needed to be. _This_ was what he was talking about when he told Bartrand he knew what the right thing was. He _should_ know to just stop talking to her.

She was in another country on a student exchane, after all, and in a relationship with someone her parents actually approved of.

But he knew deep down she still loved him. And he couldn't stop loving her-- she had been his first-- girlfriend, lover, anything.

He drew himself up on his feet and slowly walked back down the stairs, and to the kitchen again. The party was thinned out to the last of the stragglers, who came and congratulated him on their way out the door. He thanked them hollowly, and when he got to the kitchen, he sat down heavily and poured a drink. Draining half of it, he could feel the familiar itch in the back of his mind of dependancy-- he needed a smoke. And, fast.

He thumped on his chest with his fist to clear the burn of the alcohol and sidled out the back door onto the porch. He found Anders and Hawke sitting next to each other in tense conversation, clearly something having changed their mood.

"No, that's not what I was saying--" Hawke forced through gritted teeth.

"But, how can you justify--" Anders began, when Hawke gave him an incredulous look and interrupted him, "Don't you dare talk about justified actions, you--"

"My actions were completely justified!" Anders howled, "That's it! I'm out of here-- Clearly things aren't going to work out."

"That's what I told you before," Hawke called, shooing him away as he left in an angry huff. She sat back against the cool house, fingers threading through her dark hair as she pulled lightly at it with an angry groan.

"How did I _ever_ think I'd end up with him?" She asked no one in particular.

Varric pulled his cigarettes from his back pocket, and dug around for a lighter. After locating one, he sat down beside her, and lit two. He pretended to pass one to Hawke, before putting both in his mouth and taking a big drag. Hawke only laughed when he coughed hard, commenting, "That serves you right."

Varric took another draught off his drink, "I guess it did."

The two fell silent again, as Hawke swiped a cigarette from his lips, and leaned onto her smaller friend.  
  
"You are gigantic," He joked, feeling the liquor suddenly hit him hard.

"Shut up," Hawke laughed, "You're just small."

She puffed on the cigarette and offered him a sip of the _Carnal_ cocktail. He took a drag on his own before accepting, enjoying the way the taste of smoke mixed with the sweet drink.

After a few moments, Hawke spoke, fueled by the alcohol in her blood.

"I hate that things are going to change, Varric."

"I know you do," He commented, "But it's got to if we're going to have a good life. Look at us-- I'm a year out of college with only a few romance novels to my name-- sorry, my pen name-- and you're about to graduate with a degree in art."

"Don't remind me," Hawke laughed bitterly, "I'm never going to find steady work."

Varric sat up and looked at her, seeing the porch light cast a warm glow on her features.

"Not necessarily-- Bartrand told me to tell you that he's interested in comissioning something for the Tethras Co. building, if you're up for it."

"Ohh, so I can sell out?" Hawke joked, earning an eye roll from Varric, "It'll be so grand!"

"hey," Varric countered, "At least it's an option. C'mon, the party's done. I think it's time to close up shop."

The two walked back inside, and assessed the damage. It seemed most of the cleanup could be done the next morning, but as Hawke surveyed the room, she noted a tie around the doorknob, and a pillow resting outside her door.

She sighed, before groaning loudly, "You're the _worst_ , Aveline. Good night!"

From behind the door, she heard a soft, "Good night!" and she couldn't help but chuckle as she collected her pillow off the floor. She clomped up the stairs, not bothering to walk quietly, and rapped on Varric's door. She could feel that she'd had too much to drink all at once, as the stairwell started to spin around her.

"Varric?" She called, her words just slurring slightly, "It looks like I'm shacking up with you tonight," and she pushed open the door.

Varric sat at his computer, shoulders slumped, with his back to her. She made her way slowly to the bed, slipping her shoes off and hugging her knees to her chest.

"What's wrong, Varric?" she called, cocking her head to the side to look at him from the mattress.

"Just something from my publisher," He lied, closing the chat application from before, and turning off his computer for the night.

"What, your most recent serial is too hardcore, you'll have to tone it down?" Hawke joked, laughing at her own joke.

"No, more of an issue with me," he answered glumly, standing up and taking off his shirt. He continued to get ready for bed, waiting for Hawke to say something else, but when he didn't receive an answer, he turned to look at his friend draped over his comforter.

Instead of talking, she was staring at him hard, trying to read his expression.

"You've been super distracted all night, Varric... do you want to talk about it?"

He really didn't, but the combination of Hawke's insistance, and the amount of liquor he'd ingested was enough to get him coerced to ask a question he didn't necessarily want an answer to.

"I'm attractive, right?"

Hawke's heart skipped a beat, and she didn't know how to respond.

"I just... Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying," He tried to backpedal, when a soft pair of lips brushed his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the Flames of Our Lady is one of the Bottles of Thedas found in Inquisition)  
> http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Bottles_of_Thedas


	4. Coffee and Tension

**A thousand thoughts flooded Varric at once**. The foremost one, however, wasn't a question of why his best friend had decided to kiss him, but instead about why it felt good.

Beyond that, why it felt... _right_.

She still hadn't pulled away yet; in fact, she pressed just slightly closer, her fingers slipping through the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him to come closer. Her velvet soft lips parted, and he felt her tongue slip slowly, and softly into his mouth and tease his to join her.

Varric opened his eyes to watch her movements-- unsure of whether he was dreaming or not. How was he supposed to respond?

It seems he'd taken too long, however, as Hawke pulled away at last.

"What just happened?"

The words tumbled out of him.

"I'unno," Hawke shrugged, "I think I blacked out a while ago-- last thing I remember is being out on the porch with Anders. I probably won't even remember coming up here tomorrow."

Varric tried to laugh, "Ah. good to know," though his heart was hammering in his throat.

What was happening to him? He hadn't felt this way around anyone since he met Bianca in highschool. But, that couldn't mean---

Oh, no.

_Oh, shit._

A nudge on his shoulder with a foot caused Varric to focus back up. Hawke was laying flat on her back, hands behind her head and her knees propped up. She prodded him to action, "Hey, wake up. Varric, it's late. C'mon, let's lay down, go to bed."

He could tell she was fading fast, so he obliged.

"Sure... Let me just go turn off the light. Don't hog the bed, Hawke, scoot over."

She hummed happily to herself, "To my side?"

Varric shook his head, suppressing a chuckle, "Well usually, you sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag."

Hawke groaned in response, "your bed's more comfortable. Besides, I don't want to be alone tonight."

This information caught Varric off guard, "Oh?"

"Oh." Hawke countered, pinching her fingers together, "I was _this_ close to getting back together with Anders tonight. Over _one_ conversation! And he blew it again, and I'm feeling lonely, and you're right, you are attractive. And you deserve someone to share a bed with, so--"

She continued to ramble as Varric tried to process everything that was happening.

This was his best friend from throughout his college career, who watched his back through all the trouble they'd gotten into. They'd been inseparable since the moment they'd met, and it had culminated up to this moment, where she lay in his bed and had just kissed him.

Should he go through with this?

"Varric, hurry up-- I'm tired," she whined.

They were just going to sleep next to each other, after all.

"All right, Hawke, I'm coming," he groaned, turning off the light and crawling into bed. A sleepy chuckle came from the woman next to him.  
  
"That's what he said."

"Shut up," He couldn't help but laugh.

He felt her sidle up behind him, as her cheek rested on the top of his head, and her arms tucked themselves around his naked waist. One of her hands slipped up his chest to rest on the golden patch of hair there-- he hoped she couldn't feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. If she did, she gave no reply. She simply snuggled up as close as she could, taking a deep breath in, and whispered to him.

"Good night, Varric."

The tender action put his heart in his throat again. He managed to answer in a small voice, "Good night, Hawke."

* * *

 

The sun was high overhead when Hawke awoke that morning. Her head throbbed as she began to recognize her surroundings-- the only comfortable thing she could feel was the softness of the mattress below her.

_Mattress...?_

This was not her mattress.

Whose room was she in?  
  
Hawke shot up, immediately regretting the decision as she clutched her head and resisted the urge to howl in pain. A creak from beside her let her know that Varric had turned around from his computer.

He still sported his sleep clothes, though he'd changed out from his jeans to a pair of comfortable pajama pants. He seemed almost nervous as he looked her over.

"Hey..."

She groaned, "Hey."

"So..."

"So...?" When she shrugged at him, he seemed agitated.

"Some night last night," He tried again, "Huh."

Hawke looked embarassed.

"Was it? I don't know if I..."

Varric looked nearly ready to scream, but he held it in.

"You don't... Remember last night...?"

"I... Remember bits and pieces?" She offered, with a shrug, "But I distinctly remember yesterday wanting to buy liquor for this exact reason. I warned you."

A particular memory of kissing someone scruffy and blonde, pushed it's way to the surface, and Hawke nearly choked on the water she swiped from a glass on the bedside table.

"Oh Maker," Hawke groaned, "The last thing I remember from last night was talking to Anders, he wanted to try and make things work, and then-- Oh no, did I kiss someone?"

She looked wide-eyed at Varric, clearly upset, "Did I kiss him last night?! Did I accidentally get back together with him?"

Varric snorted, "No, you're not back together with him. You two had a huge fight in the backyard and he ran off. Said you two were never making up."

"Oh," She looked somewhat relieved, "Then who--"

He watched the gears fall into place as she sat fully up in the bed.

"Varric, did I kick you out of your own bed last night?"

Varric felt his ears redden slightly, "No..."

"No." Hawke repeated.

"No."

"No... I didn't-- We didn't--?" Hawke feebly attempted to clarify what she'd done.

"It wasn't super... racy, or anything," Varric shrugged, his cheeks feeling hot, "It was nice. Very gentle."

"Maker's balls," Hawke groaned into her hands. Hangover aside, she felt the sudden urge to escape. Her stomach shifted uncomfortably, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"What the hell, Hawke," Varric said, "I can't be _that_ bad."

"No, you ass-- It wasn't you-- I, I need to get out of here," she moaned, wrenching herself from the bed and scurrying down the stairs.

Varric was left alone in silence to think on whatever had just happened. He didn't get long to process, however, as his chat-program chirped, alerting him of a new message.

[B 10:12 AM]  
[This account's going to be burnt pretty soon. I'll txt you the new one once it does.]

He began to type back,

[VTethras 10:12 AM]  
[Don't forget me this time.]

But thought better of it. Instead, he sent,

[VTethras 10:12 AM]  
[Can't wait.]

  
and began to get up from his perch behind the computer. The speed with which she replied caught him off guard.

[B 10:12 AM]  
[All for you, Big Guy.]  
[ ;) ]

His heart gave a twist he didn't expect. It seemed that she'd already forgiven him from last night.

He felt strangely guilty, but he needed to dissect why. Hawke had kissed him, not the other way around. And not only that, but Bianca wasn't his. She had a boyfriend over nearly every night, so why was he...?

Varric shook his head. He needed some coffee. He threw off his pajama pants, and tugged on his jeans and shirt from yesterday instead. He drew his hair back into the half ponytail as usual, and shoved on a pair of worn leather boots. He picked up his computer bag and walked briskly down the stairs, through the living room, past Hawke's room and out the door. It was only when he got out to the convertible, and was locked safe inside with the top up, that he allowed his tension free.

"Fuck. _Fuck. FUCK. I'm fucked_."

He threw the car into reverse and quickly pulled out of the driveway, making his way to Fenris and Isabela's coffeeshop. He needed to think.

Meanwhile, Hawke was doing some thinking of her own.

She sat on the floor, draped over the toilet bowl for a few moments, her heart hammering in her ears, and her skin clamming up noticibly. She counted whatever small blessings she had that Aveline and Donnic were already off to work as junior campus security. But the harder she focused, the more her memories of the night before began to resurface.

He'd asked her if he was... attractive? And her first instinct hadn't simply been to say, " _Yes, you sweet, tiny man_ ", but instead to lean in and give the most g-rated kiss she'd ever given in her life. She blushed to her ears.

_And then I asked him to sleep with me._

Hawke wanted to scream. _I don't think that's something platonic friends tend to do. I mean I'm sure there are outliers, but..._

She sighed.

_It's not something we'd set a precedent on before._

She propped herself up on her elbow, and with one hand she typed on her phone.

[ME 10:30 AM]  
[Aveline. H E L P. I fucked up]  
[Big.]

  
Aveline didn't take long to reply.

  
[Orange Mom 10:31 AM]  
[What did you do.]

[Me 10:32 AM]  
[noooo, when you phrase it like that, it makes it seem like you'd expect it.]

[Orange Mom 10:32 AM]  
[I DO expect it. Now what did you do?]  
[Do we have to bribe someone?]

[ME 10:33 AM]  
[Nonono, nothing like that. Maker, you have an imagination.]  
[I may have... Done something I shouldn't have.]  
[I might need to get new roommates.]

[Orange Mom 10:34 AM]  
[Hawke, quit dodging the question. Tell me what happened.]

She took a deep breath, wondering how was best to phrase the statement. Shaking her head, she typed out a sentence,

[ME 10:36 AM]  
[Whilst blackout drunk last night, I think I kissed Varric and forced him to sleep with me.]  
[Not in a sexy way though.]  
[that I know of.]

[Orange Mom 10:40 AM]  
[ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME]

[ME 10:40 AM]  
[And then I made it worse by almost getting sick in his room when I found out.]

[Orange Mom 10:40 AM]  
[Wait, you ran away from him when you found out, and told him you were going to be sick.]  
[Oh Hawke, that's just cruel.]  
[Did you at least talk out how you're feeling?]

[ME 10:43 AM]  
[No... I'm barricaded in the bathroom, and I think I heard his car leave a little while ago.]  
[And what feelings?]

[Orange Mom 10:45 AM]  
[Don't play dumb with me, Hawke. Something had to have spurned you on last night.]

[ME 10:45 AM]  
[Other than being blisteringly drunk?]

[Orange Mom 10:45 AM]  
[Yes. Exactly that.]

  
She ran a hand through her sweat-soaked hair, her head pounding. How was she feeling?

[ME 10:47 AM]  
[I need to think on it.]  
[I'll talk to you soon.]

[Orange Mom 10:47 AM]  
[Don't let it fester for too long, Hawke.]  
[He's strong, but you still might have hurt his ego.]

  
Hawke knew deep down that Aveline was right, and that she needed to address the matter quickly if she wanted some form of resolution. But a thought itched at the back of her mind:

What was the outcome she was hoping for?

She didn't have time to explore the question, however, as she at last spied the time on her phone, and realized that she needed to begin the walk back to campus. Part of the reason Merrill had been so adamant about her working on an idea yesterday was that they had a planning session with the head of the art department, Doctor Orsino.

Whatever was going on with her and Varric would have to wait a bit longer.

Steeling her nerves, she pulled a loose mustard yellow sweater over the same clothing she'd worn the day before, and unlocked the bathroom door. She shot through the kitchen, out the back door, and over to Merrill's room. She rapped on the door quickly, and was surprised as it shot open on it's hinges.

"Creators, I thought you'd decided to skip class," the doe-eyed girl sighed, "Let's go-- we're going to be late."

They made the trip in relative silence, Hawke unable to repress the constant swarm of her own thoughts and questions. When at last they arrived, Hawke ran to her cubicle to tear down her proposal drawing---

Except that it was already gone.

* * *

 

Varric arrived at the coffee shop, unsure of what he was actually doing; he'd left in such a hurry, he'd forgotten if he'd had any other obligations for the day. He walked briskly to the door before wavering-- did he really want to include anyone else in this... Drama? Was it his business to even talk about it? After all, it wasn't even anything major, just a kiss.

 _Andraste's tits, I'm a grown man_ , he groaned into his hands.

It seemed he was too late in making up his mind, however, as an apron-clad Fenris opened the door, giving him a quizzical look. The introspective man cleared his throat.

"Are you coming in, or should I just ask Isabela to come out and meet you?"

Varric paused, mulling over the idea, causing Fenris to roll his eyes.

"I was kidding."

"Could have fooled me," Varric chuckled, "But if you don't mind, that actually might be best..."

Fenris sighed, casting a glance back to Isabela behind the counter as he called her over, "Bela, take your break."

She seemed confused as she rounded the display case to join the two men, until Varric caught her eye with a sheepish wave. On her way to them, she grabbed two cups of coffee, and a plate of cookies, and motioned for him to join her at the outside seating. Fenris watched the two of them walk outside before returning to his post behind the counter once more.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Isabela asked, a small smile on her lips.

Varric struggled for a few moments, before allowing himself to explain the situation to the raven haired Rivaini. She listened intently, letting him finish before interjecting, "So you came here."

He nodded forlornly.

"She told me she was going to be sick, I got a text from my ex, and... I came here."

"Well that's one hell of a roller coaster, Varric," She chuckled, "And I'm afraid I'm not the best one to ask for advice. Because, you know what my advice will be?"

He groaned, cupping his head in his hands, "Probably, but what?"

"Kiss her back."

"Excuse me?" Varric had almost taken a swig of his coffee, when Isabela put forth the idea.

"Why not? What have you got to lose?"

He considered a moment.

"My friendship? Our friend group, if things go south."

"Varric, you're moving out next month," Isabela reasoned, "And I'm not saying start anything major-- just... try it out. See how it feels. Obviously _something_ prompted it, and now you've got a choice to make. I can't make it for you."

Isabela noticed Fenris motioning to her to hurry up from inside the shop, and stood to leave.

"Can I bum a cigarette? I'll probably need another break later today."

Varric nodded, pulling a pack from his back pocket. Isabela calmly took it from him and put two cigarettes behind her ear.

"Also, the sweets and coffee are on your tab," she smirked, "Now don't overthink it."

And away she walked, swaggering in the confident way she always did, leaving Varric alone on the patio with a decision to make.


	5. backstory

**He reached for the pack of cigarettes** Isabela had left on the table when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, along with his lighter, he lit a smoke as he read.

[Daisy 12:30 PM]  
[Varric, something's happened.]

The pit of his stomach dropped as he replied.

[ME 12:30 PM]  
[What's going on?]

[Daisy 12:31 PM]  
[It's Hawke... Her final project proposal is gone.]  
[Everything-- her material requests, her initial sketches, everything.]  
[She didn't even bother to come to our meeting with Doctor Orsino-- she just left.]  
[And now he's threatening to fail her if she doesn't give him some indication of what she's working on.]  
  
This was a problem.

This was a _big_ problem.

Varric had only seen Hawke go into a self-sacrificial mode once before this-- the day she'd found out her mother had been killed.

He took a long drag on his cigarette as he formulated an answer.

[ME 12:35 PM]  
[I think I know where to find her.]  
[Meet us back at home.]

Loading himself into the car, he drove to the nearest grocery store, where he ran to the floral section and made a quick purchase.

Carefully, he lay the flowers down in the passenger seat as he made his way back onto the road, and out to the southern end of town to a familiar site.

 

Hawke curled up in a ball on the soft grass, her back pressed against the cool stone slab behind her.

[Leandra Amell-Hawke]  
[Gone, but not Forgotten. Loved and Cherished, She is with the Maker now.]

She struggled back hot, angry tears as another wave of emotion fell over her.

_I'm sorry._ She bit back an anguished groan. _I'm sorry, Okay?!_

She'd had a very complicated relationship with her mother. They never fully got along, other than their familial bond, and yet-- her untimely passing plagued Hawke with more anger and sadness than she ever could have imagined. Leandra had never approved of Hawke's decision to become an artist, though it was hardly surprising, what with her father's passion for art. It was on a overnight trip to a gallery opening in another city, however, that her father Malcolm and younger sister Bethany were struck by a drunk driver, and killed instantly. Leandra, Carver and Hawke never had a chance to say goodbye, and irrationally, Leandra's form of coping seemed to have been to blame not only the other driver, but the craft itself.

Hawke had tried to talk to her mother about it many times, but to no avail-- it seemed she was stuck in her ways, and there would be no change in opinion. Nonetheless, Hawke still felt a calling to the profession, and, in order to meet her mother half-way, decided to attend school in her hometown. During her second year of college, however, she had decided to move onto campus so as not to disturb her mother by coming and going at all hours of the night, as art students were known to do. Carver had just moved out for his own schooling, taking the family dog with him, and Leandra was living alone for the first time in a long time. Little did anyone know, but Leandra had started seeing someone, not realizing his intentions.

She was missing for a little over three days before her body was found, mangled and covered in white lilies.

Hawke had gone recluse for months after that, shutting out any contact and avoiding her responsibilities. She was emotionally fragile, and when she finally decided to get help, the counselor she went to expressed a desire to see her work through her grief in her art. Reluctantly, she'd obeyed, and found that over time it _did_ give her some form of relief, but the cost was high. Any time something happened to her art, she felt a nagging suspicion it was her mother's disapproval rearing it's head somehow.

Deep down she knew that this time, it was some form of sabotage, but even still she couldn't shake the deeply rooted fear.

_I'm sorry._

Searing tears bubbled over and dribbled down her chin, seeping into the sleeves of her sweater as she hugged her knees even closer.

The crinkle of plastic wrap and tissue paper being set on the headstone caused Hawke to whirl around, her eyes meeting Varric's as he stepped towards her. A temporary feeling of relief washed over Hawke, as the awkwardness of their situation faded away. He crumbled to his knees and enveloped her in a great bear hug. Anything she'd been holding back before suddenly came rushing out, as she buried her face into his sturdy shoulder, sobbing hard. For a moment, he didn't say anything, simply allowing her to cry as he held her.

When at last her sobs faded, and her tears had mostly subsided, she pulled away.

"Varric," She sniffed, rubbing her face on her sleeve, "What are you doing here?"

"Daisy texted me," he shrugged.

Hawke sniffled again, drawing back on her haunches.

"You brought flowers."

"Didn't seem appropriate to come empty handed."

She eyed the bouquet in disgust, "They're lilies."

"I know... I'm sorry, Hawke-- it's just... You know they were her favorite."

"I know," She said, quietly getting to her feet and unwrapping the bundle. She folded the paper and plastic gently, pocketing it, and with a gentle hand, she plucked one flower apart from the rest. Tenderly, she handed the bouquet back to him, and placed her empty hand palm up towards him.

Wordlessly, he accepted the bouquet, and fished out his lighter. He turned back to the headstone, gently leaving the flowers in front of it, and offering his own silent prayer for the deceased.

He smelled the burning as he turned back to face Hawke: she held the flower over the flame, watching with grim satisfaction as it caught ablaze, burning up quickly to nothing but a scorched stem. Satsified with the action, she stepped close to the nearest concrete, dropping the stem and grinding out the remaining embers under her heel.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked quietly, joining her on the concrete path.

"No," She said dejectedly, "But I'm going to have to be."

She allowed him to lead the way, going silent and stewing to herself. Varric didn't press the issue, however, simply letting her to be upset. Deep down they both had a sneaking suspicion about who may have removed her project, but they didn't dare voice it.

It surprised him, when after a long bout of silence, Hawke actually chuckled aloud.

"You know, you are the _only_ person I'd ever _let_  bring lilies to her grave, other than Carver."

"I know, Hawke..."

His answer was quiet, tentative even. But even so, he hadn't made the decision lightly. It was an unspoken agreement between their group of friends, and it was something he'd only done once previously-- it had enough shock value to bring Hawke back to the present, but coming from anyone else, it could easily serve as a slap in the face.

They continued driving in silence, Hawke drawing her feet up on the seat, and her knees to her chin once again. She zoned out for a while, not really thinking about anything in particular. When she zoned back in, Varric had pulled into the studio parking lot, and turned off the engine.

"What are you doing?" She asked, wide eyed.

His answer was calculated, "Hawke, you had Daisy worried sick. She told me that you skipped your planning class with Doctor Orsino. You can't give up on your art just because of some setbacks."

"Varric, the one project I was _finally_ excited about is completely gone. Having to start from scratch is just... Enfuriating."

"Enfuriating, but not impossible," he reasoned, "At _least_ let Doctor Orsino know what happened. Give him an update, and let him know you have _something_. He'll understand if you need an extension, I promise. He's not unreasonable."

Hawke groaned into her hands, "I know, I know. You're right. Fine."

She opened the door, mentally preparing for the undoubted earfull she'd get when she faced her instructor. Varric stayed in the car, shouting out to her, "You can do this, Hawke. I know you can."

His vote of confidence wormed it's way into her mind. It was at least somewhat comforting to know he had her back. For now, though, she had to face her professor alone.

* * *

 

Hawke walked out of her meeting with Doctor Orsino several hours later, feeling slightly better, and with a solid game plan for starting her project. She slipped her phone out of her bag as she walked, noticing a sweet message that had come through shortly after she'd began her meeting.

[Mr. Smooth 2:00 PM]  
[Things will be okay. I have no doubts.]  
[You're strong enough to make it through this.]

She smiled to herself, her heart beating a bit faster.

Rather than reply, however, she decided to resolve the other issue that weighed on her mind. Thumbing through her contacts, she paused on one labelled "Blondie", and shook her head. She hadn't realized just how much Varric had rubbed off on her-- to go so far as to use his nicknames and even expand on them-- it made her wonder what things were going to be like without him.

_No,_ she cleared her mind, _I need to stay on topic._

And so, she typed out a message.

[ME 5:45 PM]  
[If I find out it was you, I'm going to be very unhappy.]

  
He didn't take long to respond.

[Blondie 5:46 PM]  
[I swear I don't know what you're talking about.]

[ME 5:50 PM]  
[Don't play dumb with me, Anders.]  
[My project is gone-- my paperwork, my request forms for supplies, my inital sketches, literally everything.]  
[You left that note on my sketchbook before, what would stop you from taking it?]

She continued walking in silence, her anger beginning to bubble to the surface as the sun set around her. ten minutes passed before she recieved a reply.

[Blondie 6:00 PM]  
[Hawke, I'm so sorry.]  
[I don't know what happened, but...]

She sighed.

[ME 6:01 PM]  
[You know what. Just... Don't.]  
[I already presented to Doctor Orsino, and he gave me an extension on the project.]  
[I just have to get it done by graduation-- and it has to be perfect.]  
[I could actually use your help, if you're willing...]

[Blondie 6:03 PM]  
[Anything.]

[ME 6:05 PM]  
[I'm going to need a live model at least once a week from now until graduation.]  
[Can I count on you to be in the studio?]

[Blondie 6:06 PM]  
[I can be there. Just let me know when.]

[ME 6:06 PM]  
[Thanks, Anders.]  
[I'm sorry for accusing you.]

She sent the message before she could overthink things. His reply was just as swift,

[Blondie 6:06 PM]  
[It's okay, Hawke.]  
[It makes sense that you'd blame me.]  
[I'm still sorry it happened...]  
  
[ME 6:10 PM]  
[Please, don't worry about it, Anders.]  
[I'll make it work, in the end.]  
[Thank you.]

  
She shoved her phone back into her pocket as she turned down their street. She didn't want anyone to know that she'd been talking to Anders-- not that anyone would believe it would end in anything other than screaming and throwing things.

Oddly, the cherry red convertible parked out front gave her heart a little jump. Even with the way she'd treated Varric, she was surprised at the tenderness he'd shown her that day-- he truly knew the kind of person she had needed in that exact moment, and jumped in headfirst to the role.

Was there a possibility of her feeling something for him, other than their deep friendship?

_Something had fueled that drunken kiss._

She shook her head, pausing at the front door.

_Get a grip, Hawke._

She pushed the front door open, surprised to smell someone cooking dinner. When she pulled off her boots, and gave no verbal indication, a gravelly voice called from inside the kitchen, "Hello? Who's home?"

"Just me," Hawke yawned, passing through the living room, and into the kitchen with a yawn. Varric stood with his back to her, vigorously stirring a thick pot of stew, wearing Isabela's frilly apron. He glanced over his shoulder, beaming when she came into view.

"Hey! I'm glad you made it back," he grinned warmly, "How'd the meeting go?"

Hawke felt a bit flustered at the way she was recieved.

"It went well enough. I got an extension, provided I can get it done by graduation."

"See? I told you things would go well!" Varric chuckled, turning back to his stew pot.

She felt overwhelmed for a moment; this man had been her main support all day, even after the way she'd treated him that morning. She felt nearly moved to tears. Something inside begged her to stand, walking until she was just behind the smaller man.

He was surprised when her arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him tight for a moment. She buried her face in his hair, muffling her voice.

"Thank you, Varric."

He cleared his throat, quietly, "Hey, don't mention it."

Still, she didn't move for a moment longer, simply standing and contemplating.

At last she stepped away.

"Do you have a cigarette?"

"Andraste's tits, am I this house's supplier of nicotene?" He cursed, patting down his pockets with one hand as he continued to stir his dinner with the other.

"You _can_  say no," She grumbled, her frown fading into a grin.

He fished out the pack, cautioning her sternly, "That's all I have-- you owe me a new one," to which she simply waved him off, going out the back door, and sitting down on their makeshift patio, her feet dangling over the edge and brushing the grass below.

  
"I'm just about done with dinner," Varric called, his voice slightly obscured by the closed back door, "Do you want any?"

Her stomach gave a small gurgle. When was the last time she'd eaten?

"I mean, if you're offering?" She shouted back, cracking the door. Smoke billowed out of her nose as Varric shuffled into view, having removed the pot from the stove.

"Give me a hit off that," he motioned with a grin, "And what's mine is yours."

Almost sheepishly, she obeyed, taking a deep drag off the smoke before putting it in his lips, and holding it while he inhaled. His smell lingered around her for just   
a moment-- leather, a light cologne, tobacco and cooking spices, along with something she couldn't place. He glanced down at her, playfully blowing the smoke in her   
face before turning around and heading back inside.

"Hey!" she groaned, getting back up to follow him, before remembering to extinguish the lit cigarette.

He'd already made it back to the living room with two ladled-out bowls of stew by the time she'd made it inside. When she rounded the corner, he patted the couch beside him, turning on an old movie and grabbing his own bowl.

They ate in comfortable silence, absorbed in the terrible plot, until Hawke noticed a weight on her shoulder. She craned her neck to see that Varric had finished his dinner, and had since fallen asleep against her. With a little sigh, she attempted to wake him up half-heartedly. As the movie credits rolled, Hawke watched him slip off her shoulder, and instead press his cheek to her lap.

The same scent filled her senses; leather, a light cologne, tobacco and cooking spices, along with something she couldn't place. She felt her own eyelids growing heavy as she curled around him.

_Hawke, Hawke, Hawke. Just what have you gotten yourself into._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to preface the Hawke and Anders relationship; basically it's all based around how my purple!hawke interacted with Anders-- he didn't like a lot of what she did, even though she was still pro-mages. They are friends, and admittedly had the potential to be more, but in the end they DID disagree on too much for it to have been an entirely beneficial relationship. Please don't get me wrong, I do like Anders as a character, but I do not think that he and purple!hawke would have ended well together. Thus their complicated relationship in this story. I hope you'll still stick with me and enjoy!


	6. twisted stomachs and bundles of nerves

**A sleepy hum in his ear** caused Varric to stir. The moon was high, and as he attempted to sit up, he nearly collided with the woman he'd fallen asleep on top of.

His heart jumped to his throat-- while he didn't remember falling asleep, it looked as though he'd cuddled into her lap, and rather than waking him up, she'd fallen asleep leaning back into the couch cushions, her arm draped over his back and her head tucked slightly into her neck and shoulders. It felt strangely... nice. He froze, hoping if he didn't move any more, that she may not wake up yet. He didn't prove that lucky, however.

"Mmm... Varric? How long have I been out?" She yawned, stretching.

"H-hey, sleepyhead," He tried, wanting to kick himself, "I'm not sure. I just woke up myself."

"Yeah, when you passed out I didn't want to wake you," Hawke smiled softly, attempting to stretch her torso, "Do you mind if I move my legs-- they're getting a little cramped..."

"Oh! No, by all means--" Varric jolted upright, standing to put a bit of distance between the two of them. Hawke stretched thoughtfully for a moment, massaging her legs where his head had been previously before relaxing back into the couch. She checked her phone, sighing.

"Good, it's not even nine," She said, before rubbing her arms vigorously, "Hey, come back. I'm freezing."

Varric chuckled, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You're a human space heater-- c'mon," Hawke motioned, "The night's still young, and now I'm wide awake. Feel like watching a couple episodes of that new Denerim Cop Drama?"

"Ugh, only because I want to make fun of its horrible writing so much," Varric groused, "let me make some popcorn, first."

Hawke watched the small man leave the room, a grin forming on her lips. She heard him humming something as he made up their snack, returning shortly afterward. He placed the bowl in her lap.

"Hey, grab that blanket, will you?" She asked as he began to sit down. Varric obliged, pulling it up over the both of them as they settled in to watch the show. Together they snacked, not saying much, except to randomly comment on a particularly bad line here and there. Varric marvelled at how easily they fell back into the friendly banter they'd so often enjoyed before. The more he thought about how they'd ended the night before, the more his heart raced.

Why hadn't he considered the possibility of them being _more_ until now?

They'd certainly had chemistry throughout the entirety of their college careers. Now that he felt her nestled into his side and bantering with him about the terrible show, he couldn't deny it any longer. He could see them being happy together.

"Hey, Hawke..."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

"Hmmm?"

"Can we... talk about what happened last night?"

Before she had a chance to reply, the front door burst open as Merrill, Fenris and Isabela walked in with grocerie bags, flipping on the living room light. The three seemed surprised to find Hawke and Varric sharing a blanket, though Isabela seemed to shoo her companions toward the kitchen with a chuckle.

"Don't mind us," she grinned, "Just celebrating payday, after all."

_What did she mean by that?_

Hawke blinked as Varric sat bolt upright, again putting space between them. He began to get up, and join the others in the kitchen, clearly uncomfortable. Something sat in her stomach like a stone as a question itched in her mind; was he embarassed to be seen like that with her?

"I think... I'm gonna go," She said quietly, unsure if he'd heard her as she stepped away toward her bedroom. She didn't pause to find out, however, simply closing the door with a click.

Varric didn't try to pursue her, however, distracted as Isabela waved him over to her, apart from the others and onto the patio outside.

"So? Did you take my advice?" She asked expectantly.

He shook his head, "No, no-- it was a horrible day for that. Someone took Hawke's project and supplies from the art building, and she freaked out a little. I found her over at her mom's grave, and made her go back and be responsible..."

"Oh..." Isabela looked taken aback, "Then what was all _that_ about?"

"I don't know!" Varric seemed frustrated, "I cooked her dinner, we ate it together when she got home, apparently I fell asleep on her, and she didn't wake me up. We slept for around three hours-- and then when i tried to get up and go, she asked me to stick around!"

Isabela shrugged, "So... That's good, isn't it?"

He groaned into his hand, massaging the bridge of his nose, "It might have been, had I _not_ asked her to talk about last night _right_ before you guys came home."  
  
"Not only that," Isabela seemed to connect the dots, "But you left her alone to come and talk to me."

"Oh. _Shit._ "

* * *

 

Hawke lay in bed, replaying the scene over and over in her mind.

 _She and Varric napping together-- lazing out the couch and generally enjoying each other's company, until their roommates came home, at which point he jumped away_ _from her like a wounded animal._  She felt more hurt by the action than she cared to admit.

Rather than address it head-on, however, she opted to instead put her headphones on, turned on an old tv show, and attempted to ignore the real world. A few hours later, Aveline knocked on the bedroom door tentatively. When she recieved no answer, she opened the door to find Hawke in bed under a blanket.

"Hawke?"

Hawke turned around, surprised, and removed her headphones.

"What?"

Aveline slowly crossed the room, sitting at the foot of Hawke's bed quietly. Hawke seemed put off by the motion, simply rolling her eyes and laying back down.

"Varric told me what happened today, Hawke... Why didn't you call me?"

 _Oh. Right_ , Hawke thought to herself, _I should have, shouldn't I?_

"It's fine," she brushed the question away, "He took me back to the studio, I explained what's going on to Doctor Orsino, and I got an extension. No problem."

Aveline scooted closer, "So why do you look like you're trying to bury yourself?"

"Am I that easy to read?" Hawke sighed.  
  
This made Aveline grin, "Like a book, Hawke. Always have been. Now... Care to talk about it?"

Hawke sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. She wavered, unsure of how much she wanted to reveal. Aveline patted her hand gently. At last, the floodgates broke, and she decided to tell Aveline.

"I think... I might have feelings for Varric."

The words came at relative ease, and to her surprise, held some small form of relief. Still, a lump of nerves still sat in her stomach from her previous experience. When Aveline gave no visible response, Hawke seemed a bit crestfallen.

"And?"

"I thought you'd at least be... surprised?" Hawke shrugged.

Aveline outright laughed, "My two housemates, who banter constantly and have little pissing contests over who's funnier left and right, suddenly developing feelings-- _So surprising_."

"You mean...?"

"That we've _all_  been expecting this from the very beginning? Yes." Aveline finished for her, putting a sympathetic hand on Hawke's shoulder.

The emotional stone remained lodged hard in her gut, acidic anger boiling to the surface.

"Well, the joke's on you," Hawke spat bitterly, "Because as soon as I _tried_  to test the waters, he bailed."

This caught Aveline off guard.

"What?"

"Yep," Hawke continued, throwing her arms over her head in frustration, "He made dinner tonight, and we ate together-- he fell asleep on me, and instead of waking him up, I fell asleep too. When we woke up, I asked him to stick around, and we watched tv together for a while-- then, as soon as Isabela, Fenris and Merrill got home, it was like he'd gotten shocked! Just--" She jerked herself to her feet, beginning to pace around the room, her temper flaring further.

"Oh, Hawke..."

The pity in Aveline's voice only spurned her more toward anger.

"Don't-- don't do that," She groaned, sitting back down and hauling the blanket back over herself.

"I'm sorry," Aveline tried again, "We really were all rooting for you two..."

"Stoooop," Hawke moaned, throwing a pillow this time.

Aveline went quiet for a moment, still perched on the edge of her roommate's bed thoughtfully. She seemed to be formulating something, though Hawke couldn't figure out what. After a little while, she cleared her throat.

"Hawke, Donnic and I are moving out next week..."

"So I remember," Hawke shot darkly, peeking out from the blanket.

Aveline sighed.

"Maybe it would be best if you moved out _with_ us. Maybe sleep on our couch until you can find a place of your own? The lease on the house is up in two months anyway, and I know you were putting off finding new housing until you knew the other's plans..."

Hawke knew she meant Varric, but was too polite to say it. Deep down she appreciated the discretion. Still, the thought hadn't occurred to her before. Her gut reaction was to say no.

"You and Donnic are moving out to be together, alone--" She began.

Aveline waved her off, "Which is why this would only be temporary. Donnic and I can wait a little while yet to live alone. Maker knows it'll be hard enough to go from so many roommates to just the two of us."

  
Hawke still seemed torn by the idea.

"Just take some time to think about it, okay?" Aveline said, "You've got until next week to decide. Plus, I've still got to run the idea by Donnic."

The dark haired artist sat up, letting her blanket fall back off her shoulders.

"I will," She said, the gratefulness clear in her voice, "Sincerely."

Though a thank you was never uttered, Aveline felt herself smiling at her dear friend, "You're welcome, Hawke," as she enveloped her in a tight hug.

* * *

 

Varric was lying on his bed upstairs, staring at the cieling and cursing his own stupidity. He'd waited down on the couch for two hours to see if Hawke would come out of her own accord, but instead was met by Aveline coming home late for the evening. He'd told her about the day they'd had, and she'd been the only one brave enough to go in and talk, clearly concerned with Hawke's well-being.

Truth be told, Varric was concerned as well, but too much of a coward to seek her out at this moment. Besides-- it was possible she wasn't even angry-- _right_?

He fished his pillow out from behind his head, putting it over his face and groaning into it. There was no way she wasn't upset. He'd fucked up, and now he had a problem. His best friend was clearly upset, and there was no easy way to unravel the problem.

 _How's this for an apology,_  he thought, _I'm sorry Hawke-- I was suddenly overwhelmed by the idea that I could spend my life with you._

Even saying it in his head caused the pit of his stomach to drop out. How would he even formulate the words to say out loud?

Still, they'd never went to bed angry at one another before. He felt anxious, wanting to reach out and make sure that she was okay.

_Maybe I can text her, and that could help us start clearing the air?_

The longer he debated back and forth, the more anxious he became. He pulled out his phone, beginning to type out a message.

[ME 11:15 PM]  
[So... We're NOT going to talk about what happened last night?]

The message sat unsent on his phone for several minutes while he agonized over whether or not it would be taken humorously. He decided at last that sending something was better than sending nothing-- at the very least, it proved he was thinking of her, which had to count for something. He sent it, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

Perhaps she wouldn't respond, like the night he'd asked her to open his letter with him.

He sat up, going over to his computer and turning it on to check his emails-- he'd been dodging his publisher for about a week after all... He needed something-- anything to distract himself. As his computer started up, his chat software auto-signed in, and a message popped on screen

[BDAV has added you as a friend. Do you accept?]  
[Y] [N] [Cancel]

Without thinking, he simply hit [Y], and minimized the application.

While his email loaded, he heard a ping come through as the chat software activated.

[BDAV 11:30 PM]  
[You're too good to me, you know that?]  
[ ;) not that I don't deserve it.]

[VTethras 11:31 PM]  
[Eh, someone's gotta be.]

[BDAV 11:32 PM]  
[Why do I detect an air of sadness through text?]  
[Feel like talking about it, big guy?]

Varric paused, his heart jumping to his throat-- did he really want Bianca to know about Hawke? She was seeing someone other than him, after all...

Still-- he knew what it felt like to be the other man, and he didn't want to put her through the same amount of pain he felt whenever it came up.

[VTethras 11:35 PM]  
[Not really...]

When his phone went off from the bed, he jumped. Whirling around, he scooped it up to see if it was her--

  
[Birdbrain 11:36 PM]  
[Varric... I think I'm going to be moving out with Aveline and Donnic next week.]  
[They said I've put off searching for a new apartment for too long, and I think they're right.]

His phone dropped with a clatter as everything suddenly felt very far away.

_Oh. Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was pretty rough to write-- hope you'll all forgive me... we're building up to great things, but in the meantime SLOW BURN AGONY AND SUFFERING AHHHH


	7. mistakes

**The next week, Hawke and Varric only saw each other coming and going** through the house. Varric fell back into his writing, spending most of his time in his room, as Hawke and Aveline packed their things, and prepared for their move. It hurt to see them go, and Varric couldn't help but feel responsible.

When at last the weekend came, and Donnic arrived in his beat up brown truck, they began to load their belongings and say their goodbyes.

As Hawke passed through the kitchen in a final sweep before she loaded her own luggage, Varric touched her shoulder tentatively, pulling her aside.

"Hawke?"

She seemed agitated still, even after all the time that had passed, "What, Varric?"

"Please," He groaned, "Isn't there anything I can say that will change your mind?"

The question did catch her off guard-- after a week of no communication, this was his response? Deep down, she could feel a tug on her heartstrings.

"Varric, now? Really? I---- I mean, it wouldn't matter anyway-- you're moving out in what-- two weeks?"

He seemed sheepish as the same realization dawned on him.

"I, I know, Hawke... I just. I _hate_ that things are ending on this note."

_That we're ending on this note_.

His shoulders slumped.

"Look, for what it's worth... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let things get this bad."  
  
Hawke felt a part of her soften; she knew he was right, and she'd let her anger cloud her judgement for far too long. It was stupid to let their friendship fall to the wayside, even for a week, over something they hadn't even really discussed. She'd just been acting out. Like usual.

"I'm sorry too," the words jumbled out of her as she realized she'd be leaving, and shortly after he'd be gone as well.

He grabbed her suddenly, wrapping her in a tight hug, and held her for a moment, the two of them saying nothing. She felt tears collecting hotly in the corner of her eyes. She looked up, away from him, blinking to try and bid them away. He felt her arms settle around his shoulders.

Though they didn't look at each other, she felt Varric grip just slightly tighter.

"This isn't a goodbye, alright?"

When at last they parted, Hawke clapped Varric on the shoulder. She nodded, sniffling.

"Alright. Hey, send me your address when you find where you'll be living, okay?"

"Okay..."

"And let's hang out at least a few more times before I leave-- please?"

Admittedly, the question came out as more of a plea than he'd intended. It seemed to take Hawke off guard.

"I-- Okay, Varric," She shrugged, "Let's set up a date."

The word held awkwardly on her tongue, stuck like an unfinished thought. He pretended not to notice.

"I'll text you some dates to mull over," He nodded, cracking a smile, "But for now, I think I've distracted you long enough..."

He dug out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, "Unless you want one, for old time's sake?"

She laughed, "Varric, you're acting so dramatic."

Nonetheless, she followed him out on the back patio, watching as he lit two cigarettes. She reached for one, only to have him put both in his mouth, taking a long drag, and giving her a suggestive wink.

Hawke rolled her eyes, taking one of them out of his mouth, and putting it in her own. She hated to admit that her tongue lingered on it's surface, a little thought in the back of her mind wondering if she could still taste him on it.

It was then that Aveline rounded the house, regarding them with an exasperated sigh.

"Hawke, I've been trying to find you for ten minutes now! We've got to go-- Donnic and I need to sign the lease, and then we can move our things in."

"Oh-- Sorry, Aveline," Hawke grumbled, extinguishing her cigarette and casting a guilty look at the ground. She pondered the unsmoked stick, before passing it back to Varric. He took it, looking over at Aveline and Hawke as they passed closer to each other.

Aveline and Varric made quick eye contact, the junior security guard mouthing a question to him; <Are you two okay again?>

He shrugged, slowly following them back around the house, and out to the driveway. He leaned against Bianca as the last few boxes were loaded into the truck, Donnic giving him a genuine smile and nod. Varric returned the gesture, before joining their other roommates on the front porch. Aveline, Donnic and Hawke joined the others soon after, giving hugs and farewells as the realization set in on the group, that the first of their friends were finally branching away. It was a bittersweet moment, but a moment that had to happen, as they all understood.

Hawke, Aveline and Donnic loaded into the truck in silence, thinking intently to themselves until their old home was out of view. Donnic turned the radio on, listening and humming quietly, while Aveline looked Hawke up and down from the passenger seat.

"Is everything... okay?"

"Ah, just living life the way I'm known to-- making rash decisions, and then having to live with them like an adult," Hawke sighed, mostly to herself.

"I meant with Varric," Aveline groaned, "If you want to go back, you don't _have_ to move in with us, remember?"

"With that kind of sendoff? I think not," Hawke joked, leaning her head back to look out the window behind her. She considered a moment in silence, before actually answering Aveline's question.

"We're doing... better. Than we were. I think having some time to think might have helped. He wants to meet up again before he leaves."

There was concern in Aveline's voice as she simply asked, "Do you think that's wise?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's moving away too, isn't he?"

Hawke snapped her gaze back to the redhead, "So what, I should just fall out of touch with him? End on <that> note?"

"I'm only _saying,_ if you get your hopes up again, it might hurt more to be let down a second time..." Aveline sighed, turning to look out the window on her side, "In the end, the choice is your's, Hawke. I'm not your mother."

Aveline almost seemed to choke when the words left her. She stiffened, clearly not intending what she'd said. The vehicle itself seemed to collect it's breath as Aveline and Donnic waited for a response of some sort.

Hawke surprised them by simply snorting, "Could have fooled me," and going back to looking out the window.

* * *

 

[Birdbrain 3:00 PM]  
[Found an apartment today! I'm going to sign the lease tomorrow-- feel like going on a walkthrough with me before you leave?]

[ME 3:01 PM]  
[Aww, Hawke, I can't-- My publisher's coming to town to pick up a physical copy of my latest manuscript, and I've been ducking her calls for weeks.]  
[She's threatening to cut me loose if I don't meet with her before I head up to UFA]

[Birdbrain 3:03 PM]  
[Boo.]

  
[ME 3:03 PM]  
[Sorry...]  
[Will you be going to the studio later?]

[Birdbrain 3:03 PM]  
[I'm here now-- should be here until around 6.]  
[Think it'd be okay if I stopped by afterward?]

[ME 3:04 PM]  
[I was about to suggest it.]

[Birdbrain 3:05 PM]  
[Sounds great.]   
[See you tonight!]

  
Varric lay on his back in bed, staring up at the cieling as he waited for time to pass. He and Hawke had found ways to hang out over the past week and a half, but it had been difficult. Most of it actually was due to Hawke taking a bus from Aveline's new apartment to the school, and walking back to the house afterward, where Varric would drive her home after they spent an hour or so together. That being said, he wasn't lying when he said his publisher was hounding him-- she usually gave him his privacy, but he was down to the wire on his most recent writing and his personal life hadn't made keeping on track any easier.

He'd packed most of his things all ready, and seeing his room so stark and bare made him surprisingly meloncholy. He remembered how he'd felt when he left for college the first time; it may have been easier back then, when he was simply moving away from an ungrateful brother and a family business that hadn't quite taken off the ground yet. That was the original reason he went to school for business, instead of creative writing-- and it <had> made a difference. The Tethras family name was now well enough known that he felt more comfortable writing his romance novels under a pen name. Someday he might write something under his own name, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to tie the stories that were _currently_ selling to his family.

His mind wandered once again over to what Hawke was doing at the studio.

She said she'd recruited Anders to be a live model-- now that was something he found hard to believe. When he asked if Hawke ever found out who'd taken her original sketchbook and designs, she'd brushed him off, saying _I know what you're thinking, and I believe him when he said it wasn't him_. He supposed if she believed, that would have to be enough for him, but a part of him still felt a bit uneasy with her going back for his help. That being said, he remembered the sketch the day she'd showed him, and he could see why she reached out to Anders, of all people. The body-type fit, and a fellow art student would be understanding of the necessity of a live model.

He'd playfully prodded her a little bit when he'd found out, jokingly asking if she'd be alright with staring at Anders' naked body for several hours each day until the project was done-- now, in his boredom, with nothing to do but avoid his publisher and wait for time to pass, his mind stuck on that particular idea like a stone. There was something intimate about an artist and her model-- while it wasn't inherently sexual, there was a tangible tension that was hard to ignore-- you explored every bit of a person when they modeled, and when you have a romantic history with them, it could become even more precarious.

The writer in him was already creating a scenario-- the romantic glow of the lights, Hawke getting closer to note a particular detail, when suddenly their eyes meet, and... He licked his lips when a familiar warmth began bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

His heart beat faster, the scene intensifying in his mind: how would they progress?

Her eyes would no doubt fall to his lips, and his to hers-- leaning in closer, they'd finally make contact, and all that built up passion would finally explode. He felt himself getting harder by the moment; was he really getting turned on by this? He wanted to laugh. There was another layer to it, however... He was no longer imagining Anders in the scene. Under the balmy, romantic light of the art studio, he could see Hawke leaning in, her soft lips pressed painfully tight to his, the kiss becoming raw and passionate. Her hands roamed over him; he slipped a hand down his pants, gently exploring as he continued to imagine  _her_.

It had been a while since he'd touched himself-- He was just beginning to enjoy the sensation, relishing in the moment when suddenly, in the silence he heard the front door open.

"Varric? Are you home?"

_Shit!_

With a quickness that even surprised himself, he threw himself under his blanket, flipping onto his side, and willing Hawke not to come upstairs to check.

He cursed inwardly, _you were supposed to be busy for three more hours!_

He could hear her footfalls as she climbed the stairs. His cock throbbed painfully, straining against his jeans as he willed his heartbeat to slow, and his breathing to return to normal.

Hawke was tentative when she opened the door, no sound but the quiet creak of the floorboards as she entered. _Of course she didn't knock. She never knocked._

Varric scrunched his eyes shut, begging her to not come further-- willing her to simply turn around when she noticed him in bed.

"Varric?"

The name was whispered. He tried not to tense up, his body now altogether too hot under the blanket.

She sighed, "Maker, I know I told you three hours, but I didn't expect you to be asleep..."

He felt the bed springs squeak as she lifted the blanket, slipping under and sidling up next to him. Her cool skin rubbed against his as she wrapped an arm around his waist, taking in a deep breath and simply lying there a moment. Her fingers traced a soft, cool pattern over his back as she contemplated something.

What could he do? His mind reeled, still painfully aware of his erection.

They lay in bed for several long moments, Varric limply feigning sleep as Hawke lay coiled around him. When he felt he couldn't bear it any longer, he finally stirred.

"Hrnnh-- Hawke? That you?"

She chuckled.

"I thought you were supposed to be at the studio until six?" He said, looking back at her with a yawn.

"I couldn't outlast the time," She said, lying back on his pillow, drawing her hands up behind her neck, "Plus, my model wasn't in today. So here I am-- ready to spend our last night together however you want to."

He shifted in the bed before he could stop himself. Subconsciously he turned to face her, "So, what do you want to do?"

"Uh, Varric...?"

She pointed down at his lap; seemed he couldn't get away without embarassing himself after all. Hawke snickered as he froze, mortified, bunching the blankets onto his lap and going beet red.

"Aren't you a little old to be getting morning-wood?" She joked, somehow unphased by it all.

"I'm-- It just happens-- what do you want from me," He groaned, "How are you not bothered by this?"

"Please-- you get sent in to wake up Carver enough times, you get desensitized to the whole idea," Hawke scoffed in return, swinging herself off the bed and heading towards the door, "Once you get decent though, meet me downstairs, okay? I've got a pizza coming in like, a half hour. We're having an early dinner, and when everyone else gets home we're going to drink until we're off our asses. We're sending you out _in style_."

With that, she bounced out of the room and down the stairs, where she flopped down on the couch and waited. Varric came down shortly after, still somewhat embarassed, his hand trailing up the back of his neck to rest at his nape.

"I-- Sorry, again..."

"I told you-- don't worry about it," She chuckled, patting the couch beside her, "Want to watch a show or something?"

"Not really... Maybe a game instead?"

He pointed to the game system-- a flashy new console Hawke had purchased when she sold her first piece. She grinned, a devious look spreading on her face.

"You sure? What do you feel like-- fighting, racing, co-op? Party game?"

Varric considered a moment, "Why not all of the above?"

Hawke rolled her eyes, "Come on-- pick something! It's your night!"

The words struck him as odd; he'd had too many nights recently devoted to himself. They tended to be... confusing.

"My night, huh..."

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Fine. Let's do some fighting to start. Easy to pick up, and easy to put down when the pizza gets here."

  
The two quickly lost track of time, becoming competetive as they played together; soon their dinner arrived, and they traded their games instead for a movie, just as they'd done before. As they ate, they talked about how much things had changed since they'd met, and a feeling of tenderness fell over them. a few hours later, Fenris and Isabela arrived home from work, eating the remainder of the pizza and beginning the party. Soon after that, Merrill returned from the school, followed by Aveline and Donnic, and the group fell into their old habits and dynamics. They played party games and reminisced for most of the evening.

When midnight finally struck, Aveline and Donnic borrowed a few sleeping bags, and slipped into their old room for the evening. Merrill waved, bidding everyone good night before heading off to her room, with Isabela and Fenris slipping away to be alone as well. Varric and Hawke stepped out on the porch, to have a quick smoke before they too turned in for the evening.

Varric tapped the pack on his hand as he thought hard.

_Tonight really is my last night here, huh,_  he mused to himself. As two cigarettes fell out of the pack, he placed one between his lips. Hawke swiped the other, and his lighter, igniting her own before pressing the butt of hers to his, lighting it expertly. He leaned back against the house, blowing smoke into the air, and looking intently at the stars. It was a cloudless night.

Hawke chuckled, "Nothing like a good smoke to numb the lips after drinking way too much."

"I'll have to find someone at my new school to do this with," he nodded.

"No-- don't replace us," Hawke groaned, leaning onto her short friend, and blowing smoke over his head. Her body was warm against his, lush from the alcohol. Varric still felt somewhat grimy from the way she'd interrupted him hours ago-- caked in sweat, now double-ly so from the drinking. He angled himself slightly away from her, but in her drunken, floppy state, she continued to move with him.

He blew smoke out of his nose, "Hawke, get off-- you're all sweaty."

She shook her head, "Not a chance, buddy. You're sweaty too, and I've only got the rest of the night to be around you. So you're gonna deal with me being clingy."

He laughed, "You're the worst."

"Ditto."

She continued to lean heavily onto him until they finished their cigarettes, at which point Varric wiggled out from beside her, chuckling as she lost her balance. He hauled himself to his feet and offered her a hand.

"Come on-- everyone else has a leg up on us. Let's get some sleep."

"Fine-- you're lucky I'm already exhausted," Hawke grinned.

As they crossed the threshold into the kitchen, Varric couldn't help but make jokes, "What, did Anders work you that hard today? All hot, naked, and sweaty..."

The image he'd cultivated crossed his mind, though he willed it away quickly.

"Shut up-- I told you, he didn't show up today. Besides-- Anders and I _really_ don't work that way any more," She groaned, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing him up the stairs, toward his room.

Varric's interests were undeniably piqued.

"Oh? What made you change your mind?"

They entered the room with an attempted air of silence, though the door clattered loudly as it closed. They looked each other in the face, pausing wide-eyed to make sure they hadn't woken anyone else up, but when no reply came, they dissolved into quiet laughter.

"Varric, do we really need to talk about this?" Hawke moaned.

"I mean, no-- but I _am_ curious," he chuckled.

" _Come on_ ," she prompted, "It's _your_ night... Let's talk about you. What do you want to  <do>?"

_What do I want to do?_

He licked his lips.

"What do you mean, _what do I want to do_?"

She cycled her wrist in a circular motion, "What are you hoping you find at this new school?"

"An education," he joked.

"Maker, Shut up," she laughed, "Fine, spoilsport. I won't prod any more. I just mean... Maybe-- You never seemed particularly interested in anyone since your old girlfriend, and maybe you could find someone at this new school..."

He sat down on his bed, the springs creaking gently under his weight.

"Andraste's tits, now <you're> lecturing me about finding someone? You sound like Bartrand."

She joined him on the bed.

"You're a great guy, Varric, and-- it's fine if you're not looking for someone, but... it can get lonely, and..."

"And you finally found a way to move on from Anders. You just want that same happiness for me," he concluded, looking back at her gently.

_Right. Happiness..._

Hawke shooed the thoughts away, "I just... I hope you're happy. You deserve to be happy."

Their eyes met, the dull light of the room casting shadows over their features.

"Hawke, I..."

"Varric?"

He found himself staring at her lips intently, and leaned in before he could stop himself. He was surprised when he saw her half-lidded eyes close fully, meeting him halfway and pressing her lips to his own. She craned her neck, getting closer and leaning her head to gain slightly better access to him. Things happened quickly. Suddenly Varric was on his back, Hawke's arm wrapped around his shoulder, while her other hand threaded through his hair. Her tongue grazed his bottom lip gently at first, coaxing him to open to her. He obliged, his hands coming to rest on her hips. Her kisses became fierce, claiming all of him that she could, almost desperately. Her tongue coiled around his own, exploring him. She moaned at the sensation, the sound reverberating into him in a way that sent his chest tingling. It was almost as though he could feel her heart hammering in her chest when at last she broke away, breathing hard, and still peppering kisses along his jawline, up to his earlobe, where she bit down just enough to elicit a response.

He moaned softly, and a grin bloomed on her lips.

She wasn't done, however, as her lips clung to the thick column of his throat. She nipped and sucked at him, travelling up from his chin, down to where his collarbone connected, placing marks where she pleased, all the while listening for his input.

He felt confused; could this actually be happening?

Hawke's hand finally left his hair, instead slipping down his chest, over his stomach, and down the trail of blonde hair below his navel, to rest over the growing erection now once again straining against his jeans.

He cleared his throat, sitting up suddenly, "Hawke?"

She paused, looking at him expectantly, "Yeah?"

"Are we really--?"

"I mean, if you're up for it?" She laughed.

He nodded, slowly but resolutely. He didn't know if it was the alcohol, or the fact he'd been interrupted earlier, but he was too revved up just to stop now. Hawke put a hand back on his chest and guided him down onto the bed once more. She hooked her fingers in the band of his jeans, helping as he fumbled out of them. He peeled his shirt off as well, lying back as Hawke's hands clumsily drew back his boxer briefs, exposing him to the night air. Tucking her hair behind her ears, Hawke eyed him for the first time, the pads of her fingers gently tracing up and down his length. The warmth pooled in his belly as he bucked into the motion, gently.

She grew bolder, motioning for him to get comfortable. He spread his legs, as Hawke draped herself over his thighs, guiding him into her mouth. His hands flew to his mouth, stifling a groan as she took him in from base to tip, following up with her hand as she gently stroked him off. Her hands slipped lower, massaging his package gently as she ran her tongue up his length.

"Fuck..." He forced through his teeth. He caught her grinning up at him, before sliding him back into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, teasing another groan from him. It seemed to spur her onward until he was riding the edge, his hands finding their way into her hair, guiding her to an appropriate rhythm. He hit the edge hard, pulling out quickly and catching her by surprise as he groped for a t-shirt to catch his release.

"Sorry, I--"

He fumbled for words as Hawke swiped a forearm over her mouth casually. She grinned.

"Hope it was good," She snickered.

Varric didn't quite know how to respond.

"I-- You-- You just--"

It was his turn to take the lead now, as he surprised her with a passionate kiss. His palm cupped her chin as he guided her to him, his teeth catching her bottom lip and teasing her a little less gently than he'd intended. She moaned, going slightly limp in his hands. He flipped her onto her back, his knee slipping between her thighs and grinding against her heat gently. She yielded, her hips rolling into him in response.

His hands hovered at the hem of her shirt, wondering if it was alright. With a roll of her eyes, she took his wrists, and slid his hands up her shirt, to rest on the round swell of her breasts. Immediately instinct took over; he slipped her shirt over her head, and his large hands kneaded her gently, pinching at the soft buds of her nipples until she gasped, "Maker, yes-- please--"

It was his turn to smile now, as he ground his knee into her once again, harder this time. She keened at the sensation, struggling to shimmy out of her pants. He could feel his own desire returning, the heat coiling in his abdomen as his hard-on grew once more. He released her for a moment, slipping her knees over his shoulders as he began to prepare her. His breath was hot on her clit, as he pressed a gentle trail from her inner thigh to the lips of her most sensitive place with the tip of his tongue. He could feel her shuddering over him, her knees clamping tight around him in expectation. Varric's tongue made soft, swirling circles around her clit, feeling the bundle of nerves tense as Hawke let out a loud moan.

"Maker-- yes---"

He sucked hard, and the words turned to wordless, animalistic sounds of want. She grabbed at his hair, tugging hard and begging him to continue to ravish her. At this time, however, he simply slid out from under her and stood up, massaging his erection as he searched for protection.

Hawke stepped up at this time, digging around her bag until she found a condom, which she placed in his palm.

"you just carry these around?"

He sounded surprised.

"Just--- hurry up, please--" She groaned, flipping off the light and joining him once more in bed.

Varric fumbled around with the condom for a moment, until Hawke slid it on for him, and they fell back to the rhythm of things once more. Hawke massaged him, readying for his entrance, and with a gentle hand, Varric slicked himself with her moistness. He felt a shiver run through her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes--" Hawke seemed to have had enough of the questions, her instinct becoming one of utmost urgency. SHe flipped the small man onto his back once again, and, positioning herself over him, she slipped him into her entrance slowly.

Varric's hands clung to her hips as he bucked up into her, painfully slow at first. Hawke set the rhythm, letting him move as he needed to, before her hands fell to her clit. She massaged gently, moaning as she rode closer and closer to the edge. Varric wanted to help her feel the way he did, and watched with a degree of satisfaction as his fingers slid up her stomach, to her chest. He guided her to lean over him, her breasts swinging in his face as they moved as one; she grappled his headboard as he began to angle up to a particularly sweet spot-- he felt her react, and playfully he slipped one of her nipples into his mouth. His tongue grazed her and she squeaked, grinding hard on his cock once again.

He could feel himself getting close to the edge once again-- he had to warn her this time. He wanted her to come with him.

His mission became to see her come undone-- his fingers slipped back down by her hips, where his thumb massaged the bundle of nerves at her entrance-- He felt her react immediately, her movements becoming erractic as she curled inward.

"Varric, wait, I'm-- fuck, I'm so close," she moaned, biting her lip.

"I'm close too," he confessed, bucking hard up into her, "Just-- let's come together--"

He felt her fall over the edge and he joined her quickly, rutting against her as she clamped down tight around him. They stayed connected, breathing hard and convulsing as their orgasms dispelled, until at last, with a pained grunt he pulled out from her warmth.

What had they just done? What were the implications of this?

The unanswered questions faded from his mind as he felt Hawke snuggle against him, her forehead resting gently against his. With a hand, she wiped the sweat from is brow, and her own, chuckling softly.

"Would it be weird if I said 'thank you'?"

"Yes. Extremely," he grunted, sitting up to clean himself up before he joined her in the bed once more.

"Fine," she groaned, her arm thrown over his stomach as she settled in next to him once again. She was asleep almost instantly afterward, clearly sated and happy with herself. Varric had to admit he was having trouble keeping his eyes open, though his mind still buzzed with questions he knew Hawke would try to duck the next time he posed them.

Just what had he gotten himself into now?


	8. Big Fan

**Late morning sunlight streamed into the dusty bedroom window** , causing Hawke to stir, slowly blinking as her thoughts registered from the night before. Varric was still in bed with her, nestled softly into the pillow and breathing deeply while he dreamt, his strawberry blonde hair arranged delicately across the pillow.

Gently, she withdrew her arms and sat up, wondering what the protocol was for this sort of scenario. She heard his phone chirp quietly as he received a text message. She didn't want to snoop, but she knew he <did> have a meeting today that couldn't be ignored, and judging by the sun's climb in the sky it was likely to come much quicker than he'd like.

She slid back under the covers, her arms wrapping around his middle as she palmed his chest, her chin resting just below his ear. Quietly, she urged him to wake up.

"Varric? I think we overslept..."

He groaned, jolting awake, only to scrunch his eyes up tight at the brightness of the room.

"Wh--Hawke? What's happening now?" He groaned.

"It's late," she prompted delicately, "And I think your phone went off a couple minutes ago."

She slipped her arm off him as he began to sit up, flipping his hair off his face as he felt around for his phone. He dredged the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he unlocked the device, pausing when he realized that he and Hawke were still naked from the night before. He glanced back at her as she sat with the blanket only drawn up halfway, a drowsy smile on her lips. He tried to shake off the sudden wave of arousal that fell over him as he remembered the night before.

"What's it say?" She prompted him, sitting up fully herself and drawing her knees to her chest in the bed.

 _Right_ , he looked back at the screen, reading his messages.

" _Shit._  Justinia's not coming herself-- said she's sending an Intern to do her dirty-work instead," He sighed.

"Is that bad?"

"No, it's just... She's _already_ enough of a hardass when it comes to deadlines, and she said to expect the worst with this intern. She doesn't like things to not go according to plan, and she's supposed to be here-- 10 minutes ago. _Shit._ "

He launched himself from the bed, feeling somewhat embarassed as he realized he yet again suffered from morning wood. _Fuck_ _me,_  he groaned under his breath, _can_ _today get any more awkward_?

"I guess that means _I'd_ better get up, too." Hawke huffed, swinging her feet off the bed, and bending over as she searched for her various sundries off the floor. Varric watched as she went to grab her t-shirt off the floor, when she noticed something and her nostrils flared in disgust.

"Varric, there's cum all over my shirt. _Maker's breath-- I can't fucking believe this._ "

He couldn't help but snort out a laugh as she stared at him incredulously.

"I'm glad you think that's funny," she groaned, "Andraste's ass, what am I going to do?"

"I-- sorry, I just..." He fumbled over words, still managing to get dressed as they hurried along, "Last night was a whirlwind that I'm still trying to wrap my head around."

She seemed oddly pleased with the description, though she couldn't resist prodding, "A _good_ whirlwind?"

He sighed, throwing a black v-neck shirt over his head, "A _something_. I... I hate to do this to you again, Hawke, but can we talk about this a little later?"

She nodded, looking vacantly around the room, "No, I totally get it. Now's not really the time or place for _that_  conversation. Call me tonight?"

He threw his shirt from the night before to her, "Definitely."

Hawke grinned, throwing the shirt on as Varric made his way over to his desk, gathering up his manuscript and throwing it in a manila envelope and scrawling something on top of it in permanent marker. Tucking it into his computer bag, and throwing that over his shoulder, Varric was surprised when Hawke came up behind him, giving him a firm swat on the ass as she stepped past him.

"Knock 'em dead, tiger," she smirked, "And keep in touch. We've got a lot to discuss."

And with that, she sauntered down the stairs, leaving Varric alone in his thoughts.

* * *

 

Varric made his way down the stairs only to see the back of an unfamiliar head seated on his couch. She heard his heavy footfalls, much to his annoyance, and turned around to give him a hardened stare. He crossed the distance between them in utter silence, trying to decide how to feel, when she stepped forward and offered him a stiff-armed handshake.

"Mr. Tethras, I assume."

His gaze narrowed, "Yeah... Justinia's Intern, I take it?"

She seemed to bristle at his intonation, but nodded, "Cassandra Penteghast. You're late."

"And _you're_  in my home. I haven't had any coffee yet... Do you mind if I get some, before we go to work?" He asked, a hand running up the back of his neck.

"Your... roommate... let me in," She mumbled, "But not before she complained about the absence of coffee. I'm afraid we'll have to go and find it somewhere else."

The woman had somewhat of an accent... Nevarran, if he was placing it correctly. Now that she was staring him down, he felt dwarfed by the presence she put forth; it was no wonder Justinia had given him warning before the day came.

He sighed auidbly, his face settling into his palms as he pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes in an attempt to stave off his building headache.

"Fine. Come on, then," he motioned, heading toward the front door, his computer bag still slung over one shoulder.

"What?"

"Come on. We need to finish up this business so I can get the rest of my day started," Varric groaned, not even attempting to mask his annoyance, "I'm sure this is just Justinia's idea of wasting my time, for how much I've wasted her's-- I get it."

They stepped up to the cherry red convertible and Varric opened the driver's seat, callously tossing his bag and writing bundle into the back seat. Cassandra seemed mildly uncomfortable at the idea of riding with him, until he opened her door from inside with a click.

"Are you coming, or do I have to ask nicely?" He grumped, "Because I'm only barely winning the fight against a killer hangover right now, and my good humor's not gonna last if I don't get some coffee and food into me."

Cassandra loaded into the vehicle without another word, staring icily out the window as the author she was meant to have her first meeting with gave her more trouble than she could have imagined. They drove the short distance into the main area of town, and parked close to Isabela and Fenris' coffee shop. Varric guided Cassandra along with a tight-lipped, taciturn silence, until they entered the shop.

"Oh, sweet merciful Maker," Varric grumbled, closing his eyes as a wave of coffee beans and adrenaline hit him. He approached the glass display case to order, and noticed that Fenris was bristling, and unable to make eye contact with him. Confused, Varric waved a hand and attempted a short, low whistle.

"Fenr-- Hey, Broody. What's this-- why are you ignoring me?"

Isabela promptly stepped forward, throwing her elbows on top of the display case with a smirk.

"Maybe because you and a certain friend of ours were _banging little too loud last night,_ and he's too polite to call you out on it," her smirk widened to a grin.

Varric whirled around, wondering if the intern was still in earshot. Relieved to find that she'd slipped away to the restroom, he spinned back and cast a glare at Isabela.

"Rivaini, please. I'm sorry we were loud, okay? Things took a turn last night-- Now, I'm meeting someone who reports to my publisher, can we please leave the sex talk _out_  of the coffeehouse."

She tutted, "Oh, Varric, you're no fun you know." and patted Fenris on the back.

"The usual, then," the tattooed barista managed through his teeth, still not looking at the shorter man.  
  
"Please. Oh, and a cream-filled donut, _thank you_ ," the joking could be heard in Varric's voice as he leaned over the counter, giving Isabela a hammy wink, when he noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that Fenris' ears had gone crimson.

"Well, I'll give you something, Mr. Tethras, this was not the first assignment I expected," Cassandra's voice rang out from behind him. He stiffened, plopping some cash on the counter before following her sheepishly to an empty table. Setting his bag over the back of the chair, he withdrew his laptop and the manila envelope, which he tossed casually across the table to her.

Cassadra froze as her eyes scanned the title on the cream colored paper, her heart racing.

"These are-- but you're... Your name is Varric Tethras, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but... I write under a pen-name. I can't have this crap tied to my family's <actual> name."

"This _crap_?" Cassandra clarified as she delicately unhooked the envelope, peeling back the glue on it's seal gently. She pulled the stack of paper out from the envelope almost reverently.

"Don't tell me," Varric watched her, his eyebrow quirking at the sight.

"I have been following your work since you released the first _volume_   _of Swords and Shields_. And to see this, in person, is..."

"Overwhelming?" He couldn't help but smirk.

  
"Well, yes," She said, almost breathless, "This project was a <special assignment> from Justinia, for me personally-- she caught me reading on shift one day, and she..."

"Wow, the old broad  _can_  be nice," Varric marveled, watching as Cassandra thumbed through the rough cut, seemingly enthralled by the content.

  
"Don't talk about her that way," Cassandra only gave a small protest, still clearly enjoying her sneak preview, "She's done a lot of good in our industry. She's keeping you afloat, like it or not."

She didn't even seem to really believe her statement. Varric waved his hand in front of the paper, disrupting her focus, "Hey, can I get ready to go now? I've got a four hour drive ahead of me, and I kind of want to get started.

"Four hours?" Cassandra's interests were piqued, "Where are you going?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Varric's eyes narrowed, "But I just got accepted to the Business MBA program at UFA."

Cassandra looked even more taken aback this time.

"I go to UFA currently. I'm heading into my senior year."

"Huh, small world," Varric shrugged, getting up and repacking his bag before swinging back up to the display case near the front of the store, "Isabela, I need my order, I'm taking off now. I'll see you guys around, okay?"

The buxom beauty rounded the counter to hand deliver his order with a hug before allowing him to head out the door.

"That should be the completed manuscript, all right? Tell Justinia if she needs any promo material to come get it herself next time, okay?"

"Wait, Mr. Tethras--"

"Please, call me Varric," he sighed as she caught him near the front door.

"Varric. Do you think I could get a..."

"Let me guess. You want me to sign your book?" He chuckled, cracking a grin when she nodded.

"Don't worry," He assured her, "If you bring me a copy when you're on campus, I'll sign it then. All right?"

And with that, he scooped up his order, and exited the building, leaving Cassandra to fend for herself in puzzled silence.

* * *

 

Varric arrived back home with just enough time to pack his boxed belongings into the back of Bianca, before an alarm on his phone went off. With a groan, he realized what time it was-- he had a scheduled skype chat with the real Bianca scheduled right before he was supposed to leave for real. With no one home, it had seemed as good a time as any, though he knew deep down it was likely she'd keep him for longer than he'd intend to stay.

Nonetheless, he booted up his computer, rubbing his hands together absentmindedly as the software loaded.

[BDAV 2:15 PM]  
[Hey big guy, plans have changed a little bit-- Bogdan just texted he'd be over in, like, 20 minutes.]

  
Well, so much for being held up. Still, the mention of the other man's name made Varric's skin crawl. Instead of the usual ache, however, Varric was surprised to find him mind wandering to what Hawke might be up to. He shook the thoughts away, however.

  
[VTethras 2:15 PM]   
[Oh... That's fine, I guess. I just wanted to let you know I'm just about out the door for UFA.]  
[Think you'll visit Ferelden any time soon?]

[BDAV 2:17 PM]  
[Can't say I have any plans to currently, not that I could just up and visit without arousing suspicion, anyway.]  
[Why do you ask?]

[VTethras 2:18 PM]  
[No reason, I guess... It's just...]  
[We haven't met up and physically seen each other in two years, Bianca... I'm starting to wonder]

His heart thundered in his ears as he typed out his question.

[What if I found someone else?]  
[Wouldn't that be easier, for both of us, in the long run?]

  
There were no replies for several long moments, leaving Varric feeling like he was dangling over an edge.

[BDAV 2:30 PM]  
[Why would you suggest something like that? There's no one who shares the special bond we share... We know each other inside and out, because we've been together for so long.]  
[I know being together has been difficult, but]  
[That's no reason just to give up on us.]  
[Unless...]

He knew he shouldn't have suggested it-- now, she'd no doubt be upset with him.

[BDAV 2:35 PM]  
[You've already found someone else, haven't you, Varric?]  
[Who is she?]

VTethras 2:36 PM]  
[B-- no, I swear.]

He lied.

[It was a hypothetical question.]  
[But]  
[That's what you're doing, isn't it?]  
[I mean, you've got Bogdan waiting on you hand and foot,]

[BDav 2:36 PM]  
[Varric, how dare you.]  
[I have told you a thousand times before-- Do you think I like juggling you two like this?]  
[Bogdan helps keep my parents off my back. I'm doing this for you.]   
[For us.]

  
Varric sighed, anxiously trying to steady his heartbeat. He had to have guessed that reaction was coming.

[BDav 2:40 PM]  
[I have to go, Varric. Bogdan's at the door.]  
[We're going to talk about this more, Varric.]  
[Message me when you get to UFA?]

[VTethras 2:42 PM]  
[I... I will, Bianca.]  
[I promise.]

* * *

Varric was at last on the road when he recieved a phone call, interrupting his music playlist and vibrating loudly in Bianca's cup holder.   
Sliding into the slowest lane available, he slipped his phone onto speaker mode and cleared his throat.

"Hello?"

  
"Hey--" Hawke's voice rang out in an almost musical way, "How did your meeting go? Are you on your way now?"

He relaxed back into his seat, lazily gripping the wheel with one hand as he drove onward, "Yeah, finally. The meeting went alright-- apparently Justinia sent her intern as payback, not just for me, but also for the intern-- turns out she didn't know <whose> writing she was picking up."  
  
Hawke laughed.

"So she was a fan, huh."

"Full-blown," Varric smirked to no one but himself in particular, "Which made ending the conversation a little awkward. Turns out she's a sophmore at UFA, too. So I might even run into her on campus."

"Oh _wow_ ," Hawke chuckled, "That'll make for an interesting experience, I'm sure."

She shifted the phone around, her hair rubbing on the earpiece slightly as she formed her thoughts, "Well, I'll have you know my boxes are all in the new place, and my mattress is on the ground. Thinking I'll take a little break to just relax before I start getting things in order."

She sounded sleepy, he realized, shifting as he placed both hands back on the wheel, and tried to keep his mind on the road.

"Are you okay, Hawke? You seem distracted."

"Hmm?" she groaned, "Oh, yeah, I just... Aveline and Donnic brought over a bottle of wine, and I think I might have had most of it... So I'm pretty tipsy."

Varric chuckled quietly, <Way to celebrate, Hawke>, before clarifying, "So what... you just going to nap off your day-drinking, then, before you start making your new place look nice."

"Or, you know, we could talk," She shrugged, her hair rubbing against the reciever once again.  
  
"Oh..." Varric was caught off guard, suddenly feeling a bit warm.

"Unless there's something else you want to do?"

Her voice had gone velvety, and the question was posed so quietly he almost had to ask for clarification. He could tell that _something_  had ultimately shifted in the mood between them, and when he felt himself growing slightly, he tried to force himself back into a proper headspace.

"Hawke! Maker, I'm driving on the highway," He hissed, eyes latching to the road with a renewed sense of vigilance.

"Sorry, sorry... I just can't stop thinking about last night," She groaned quietly, "You were _so_  fucking hot..."

Guilt panged in Varric's ribs as he remembered the way Bianca had chewed him out earlier.

"Hawke," he warned, softer this time, "There is _something_  we need to talk about..."

She seemed to sit up suddenly.

"Varric, what's wrong?"

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, braking as traffic came to a smooth stop around him. He felt trapped, and altogether overheated.

"Hawke-- I... I don't regret what happened last night, but, I'm..."

His throat was suddenly dry, his words sticking to his tongue as he spoke.

"I'm currently seeing someone. And, it's complicated, but--"

"Maker-- I had no idea," Hawke interrupted, the shock clear in her voice, "Varric-- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"No, no-- Hawke, its fine. You didn't know, and I only <just> brought it up with her, and--"

"Wait, you talked about it with her?!"

"No-- I-- Not exactly," He squirmed in his seat, "I didn't know we were exclusive--- and, like I said, its really complicated, but when I talked to her about seeing other people she freaked out, and, I do love her, so we... Decided to not see other people."

Hawke was eerily quiet for a moment, seeming to mull over his words before she spoke again, carefully, "Okay, Varric... Again, I'm so sorry-- Had I known there was someone else, I definitely would not have made those advances, and all that banter stops now. I promise."

"I'm sorry too, Hawke," He replied, an oddly familiar dull ache settling in his chest, "Truth be told, I didn't know either. But, you're right... It was fun, but we can't do it again."

Hawke's question caught him off guard after several moments of silence.

"Would she be upset if we remained friends?"

"What? No!"

At least, at the moment this was true. Bianca <didn't> know for a fact there was someone else, after all.

She seemed relieved.

"That's great news... Because, I had my final review with Doctor Orsino today, and... He kinda put me up for an art show at UFA in the fall. It requires two new pieces, plus the one I just finished, and I'll have to come up there once every week or so to make and install the art."

Varric swallowed hard; Hawke would be around UFA? Once a week?

"Do you think it'd be okay if I stopped by afterward? Like old times?"

Varric nodded, mouth still incredibly clumsy in his reply, "Yeah== I don't see why not. I mean, I'll have a roommate, but as long as he's alright with visitors, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Ah, good," Hawke's voice was edged with nerves, like she didn't know how to progress, or end, the conversation.

"Well, hey. Congratulations, Hawke. This is a huge deal," Varric said, genuine care shining through his voice.

"Thanks, Varric. I'll call you when I come to town, okay?"

"Can't wait."


	9. Uncomfortable

**Varric was surprised at the ease with which he found his new dorm room.** He'd been one of the lucky few Master's program students to secure on-campus housing, and when he opened the door, he discovered that his roommate was already settled in. The tall, portly boy quickly got to his feet, helping Varric unload his first trip from the car, and with a quiet smile introduced himself as _Evinn Trevelyan, Art History major_.

  
In the days leading up to their classes starting, Evinn and Varric developed a candid friendship; it seemed that Evinn had recieved his bachelor of arts in the city of Ostwick He was then discovered, and thus led to apply to UFA by one of the leading art historians who taught part time at the school. He accepted his fellow student with a subtle kindness, offering to give a tour of what he knew about the campus, and introduce him to the other friends he'd made at orientation.

Varric accepted with a shrug, and with that they headed down to the dining hall.

When they arrived at the long table in a well-lit corner of the hall, Varric's eyes lit up with a knowing grin as Cassandra's mouth dropped open in sheer surprise.

"You!" She practically pointed as he pulled up a chair.

"I didn't expect to find _you_ again so soon," he chuckled, tossing his leather jacket over his chair, "Did you bring your copy of my book this time?"

He could barely stifle his laughter when she dug through her bag and slammed the hardcover copy on the table in front of her.

"You _left me_  at that coffee shop! I had to walk back to your apartment to pick up my car!"

" _Oh_ , so you're the one she was talking about," a woman with a red bob smirked as she pointed to him with her fork.

"I suppose I am," he countered with a grin, "Varric Tethras. And you are?"

"Leliana," she seemed to almost purr, offering her hand.

"Good to meet you," He answered amicably, casting an eye over the mismatched group before him.

The table was crammed together; a man with curly blonde hair guarded his plate as he wolfed down whatever meat products he'd found at the buffet, sat next to a gentle-looking Antivan girl, her hair gathered in a prim and polished bun. Cassandra sat next to this Leliana, and Evinn sat nearest to Varric, quietly observing the conversation with his usual kind smile.

"I didn't know you knew Cassandra," He said.

"She knows my publisher," Varric shrugged, "When I'm outside of school I write fantasy novels on the side. Nothing serious, just something for a little extra spending money."

Cassandra seemed incensed by the statement, " _Nothing serious_?"

He gave a snort, "What do you want me to say? I'm not exactly proud that I write romance novels."

"But you _should be_ ," she urged, "Now, do you have a pen, or do I need to supply my own?"

He shook his head with a grin, fishing around his bag absent-mindedly, before pulling out a small leatherbound journal with a permanent marker tucked into it's binding. He signed her book, then pulled himself out of the chair, stepping away momentarily to grab whatever food he could for dinner.

 

The group became fast friends, joking with and prodding at one another over the coming weeks, and when at last their classes started, things seemed to pick up speed slowly.

True to his word, Varric contacted Bartrand with business advice a few times a week, not giving too much information as to overload him; Bartrand still seemed to appreciate the advice, nonetheless. He offered to be a sympathetic ear, though Varric flatly refused him.

He didn't need his brother to have any more dirt on him.

The weeks progressed as a pattern, however; Varric noticed that while he texted Hawke, and spent his nights chatting with Bianca, his roommate developed a taste for studying in the library with a fellow artist; one who astounded the academy with his studies on the latest and greatest painting techniques, apparently much to his professor's chagrin.

Dorian was quickly made known for his avant garde work and his masterful banter around the art studio, which undoubtedly was what drew Varric's roommate like a moth to the flame.

Nonetheless, it surprised Varric to come home one night and find Evinn and his study-buddy locked in a <fairly> passionate kiss on the futon beneath Evinn's lofted bed. He planned on playing it off, however, opting to simply laugh it off when prompted.

Evinn slipped out of the room quietly excusing himself; his ears crimson and his eyes on the floor, to join Dorian for the next few hours, leaving Varric with the room to himself, assumingly for the whole evening.

For the first time since he moved, Varric wondered what to do with his newfound free time.

lying in his bed facing the cieling, Varric held his phone above his face as he typed

[ME 9:07 PM]  
[You still planning on coming up to UFA this weekend?]

He smiled as her answer came speeding back.

[Birdbrain 9:08 PM]  
[As if I'd miss the opportunity!]  
[the school's hired a moving van to gather the pieces of my sculpture-- hope it ships okay!]  
[they packed it all in crates and stuff this morning]

She attached a benign photo of her legs, and the gentle curve of her hips, leaning against a backdrop of several wooden crates, her black jeans ripped around the knees.

Varric shooed away any curious thought about what else she might be wearing; it wouldn't be smart-- or appropriate--- to inquire after all. His mind had wandered back to their night of passion more times than he cared to count over the past few weeks, and the subtle dip of her waistline did nothing to subdue those thoughts.

[ME 9:10 PM]  
[Looks hefty.]  
[You never sent me a picture of the finished project though!]

[Birdbrain 9:11 PM]  
[I]  
[ I wanted to show you in person.]  
[When I found out Dr. Orsino liked it enough to submit it to the INQUISITION art show, I hoped you'd be interested enough to come see it...]

[ME 9:12 PM]  
[INQUISITION art show?]  
[What's that?]

[Birdbrain 9:13 PM]  
[the name of the art show, ass :P]  
[Apparently the theme of the show is something along the lines of "pieces that intensely examine and question our reality"]  
[my pieces deal a lot with rage, regret, and despair-- all heavy handed emotions...]  
[apparently that fits the bill.]

Varric nodded quietly to himself; as usual, Hawke's piece was a vent for her emotions. No wonder it'd hurt so much to have her sketches stolen: it was like having her very emotions ripped from her hands.

[ME 9:15 PM]  
[Well I'm excited to see it.]  
[And you.]

Guiltily, he felt his heart race as he sent the message. He tossed his phone onto the bed beside him, not waiting to see a response.

As if trying to ease his own guilty conscience, he leant down and collected his laptop, opening it and balancing it on his chest. Almost to his relief, he noted that Bianca was online, and he typed out a quick message to her.

[VTethras 9:20 PM]  
[B, you available to chat tonight?]

She replied after several long moments.

[BDav 9:25 PM]  
[I could be coerced.]  
[;)]  
[how are you doing, big guy?]

 

They chatted rather benignly for the better part of a few hours, all the while Varric attempting to ignore the thoughts of lust that slowly pooled in his mind, and then his abdomen.

Just before midnight, he finally worked up the courage to ask something he hadn't believe he'd be dumb enough to ask.

[VTethras 11:45 PM]  
[Hey, B...]  
[Can I ask you for something potentially embarassing?]

His heart thundered in his ears as he sat in silence, waiting on a reply.

[BDav 11:50 PM]  
[You're so dramatic, Varric.]  
[:P]  
[But go ahead. What's this embarassing question?]

He drew in a deep breath, wondering how he could get his point across.

[VTethras 11:51 PM]  
[I'm just gonna come right out and say it, alright?]  
[I needed some writing fodder, and when looking up some ideas for scenes, things got a little...]  
[Out of hand.]

The lie bounced around his his head as he tried to backtrack, instead typing out,

[Can we do a voice call?]

[BDAV 11:52 PM]  
[You want to try having phone sex?]  
[Aw, Varric I can't-- Bogdan's asleep in the other room...]

 

The pit of his stomach leadened.

Of course he was.

He always slept over at her place.

  
[BDav 11:55 PM]  
[ :( ]  
[I'm so sorry, Varric... I really wish I could help out, but...]  
[calling is really risky...]

[VTethras 11:56 PM]  
[No, I know it is...]  
[I just]

  
[you know what, never mind. It's totally fine.]  
[Don't worry about it.]  
  
[BDav 11:58 PM]  
[Varric, wait.]  
[I have an idea]

Varric's phone gave a chirp, and without thinking, he picked it up, noticing an unknown 'donotreply' email in his in-box.

[Check your email, big guy.]  
[after all, you've been such a good boy for so long]  
[you deserve a little reward.]

  
Varric's breath caught in his throat as a new wave of arousal shot through him like lightning.

Bianca's soft, light skin was clearly on display, her face partially obscured and cut off the photo. The photo was self taken, and was clearly meant to arouse.

And arouse, it did.

He felt his erection straining against his jeans, and as he typed back to her with one hand, he massaged himself passively with the other.

[VTethras 12:02 PM]  
[Fuck.]  
[That's so hot, B.]

[BDav 12:02 PM]  
[Hmm, so you liked that, huh?]  
[ ;) ]  
[ I think I can dig up another one for you... Just a sec.]

The second ping on his phone registered before that sentence did.

He released himself to the night air, stroking his length slowly as he opened the new email.

This photo was more lewd than the previous; She had craned the phone high over her head, giving a full shot of her naked body, her other fingers resting wantonly just beyond her plump, ruby lips. Her chestnut hair was strewn against the white pillow behind her, with what looked like morning sunshine kissing the soft skin and hair of her mound.

[VTethras 12:07 PM]  
[Maker, B.]  
[When I ask, you clearly deliver.]  
[I'm so hard, B.]

[BDav 12:10 PM]  
[Anything for you, big guy.]

[VTethras 12:13 PM]  
[I wish you were here, B.]

[BDav 12:14 PM]  
[I'm afraid I can't give you that.]  
[Maybe this is the next best thing?]

When the email came through Varric had no reservations-- he was getting too hot and bothered to wait much longer--

 

His heart dropped. His body suddenly felt heavier than it ever had, and any trace of passion from moments before had dissipated.

  
The photo was still as sexual as she'd promised; Bianca was displayed prominently, her arms thrown over her head as her eyes were closed; her lips formed a silent O.

It was at an awkward angle, cropped at her hips, where he could see there might have been more to the photo before. a telltale shadow showed the point of view it was taken from.

It felt like voyeurism.

It felt inherently wrong.

His heart twisted darkly as he realized; these photos weren't taken for him.

  
[VTethras 12:20 PM]  
[Bianca]  
[What the fuck?]

 

His mind raced.

He needed a drink, and he needed it now. 

He slammed his laptop closed, shoving it off his chest as he grabbed his leather jacket, throwing it over his shoulders  as he gathered his wallet and keys. slamming the apartment door shut, he locked it hastily, still shaking and angry.

Unbelievably angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i was talking on Tumblr, and a friend of mine asked me an interesting question-- 
> 
> Do you guys see the characters written as their respective races, or do you see them written as human? I've tried to keep it ambiguous, but i'm curious to see.
> 
>  
> 
> Same goes for Hawke-- I personally usually write Hawke as my custom purple!Hawke, Ghena. But i have been purposefully not including her descriptors so that you guys have room to imagine as well... hope its been working for you!
> 
> that being said, I AM going to be including my personal Inquisitor going forward.


	10. shots shots shots

**He still couldn't believe it.**

She'd sent him pictures of herself literally having sex with another man, acting as though that would in _any_ way be something he'd want to see.

He bristled as he drove, not clear on a destination, but wanting to escape.

He wanted to talk to _someone_.

_anyone._

_Hawke?_

_No,_ he corrected himself, _that would definitely be a mistake._

Almost as if on cue, Varric's phone wrang.

When he picked up, he could hear Dorian's voice just barely over the cacaphony of a large group, all laughing and yelling at once.

"If you think you can forgive us for our little display earlier, Evinn would be thrilled if you joined us for a drink off campus."

Varric's voice came out dry and cracked, surprising even himself.

"O-oh yeah, Where at?"

"It's called the Gull and Lantern. Big bar, very rustic. I suppose we'll see you, then?"

"I... Yeah, I'll be there," Varric managed distantly, before hanging up and pulling over for a moment, pressing his forehead to his steering wheel. He needed to calm down. He needed to normalize.

He took a few more moments before getting back on the road, and finally finding the place Dorian had described as _big, and rustic_.

Varric noted immediately that while Evinn wasn't waiting out front, Dorian was there to greet him, cigarette in one hand and a dark beer in the other. A large, and fairly intimidating Qunari man stood just behind Dorian, and watched with a good deal of curiosity as Dorian ushered Varric inside, flicking away his cigarette butt as he walked.

"Trevelyan was too meek to even meet you at the door; don't get me wrong, though-- he did want you to come here."

"Well, can't say I'm not happy for the distraction," Varric grunted as his roommate slipped into view, a bashful grin settling on his face as he caught sight.

"Is everything all right?" The larger man seemed accutely aware that something was amiss.

Varric sighed, "My girlfriend and I had a huge fight."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I-- Not really... It's a lot more complicated than I'd like, and explaining it would just give me a headache."

Dorian slid in beside Varric, "How would you like to drink until you have a headache instead?"

"That's what I was hoping for, actually," Varric managed a weak smile, "Thanks, Sparkler."

Dorian quirked an eyebrow, suppressing a chuckle.

"Sparkler?"

"Ah, sorry," Varric stifled a groan, "I always give people these little nicknames, like 'Daisy', or 'Broody', or 'Blondie', and it's always what first comes to mind. I didn't mean to offend."

"Not at all," Dorian smirked, flagging someone down as they passed, "I've certainly been called worse. By _this man_ , in fact."

It was the same burly man from out front. In the light of the bar, Varric noted the man wearing sunglasses indoors, and the way his body language betrayed more about him than he probably realized; ex-military.

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy our time together?" the man smirked at Dorian, cheekily.

"Ignore him, he's all bluster," Dorian simply shrugged in reply, "Varric, we call this one <Iron Bull>."

"You forgot _the_ ," Bull corrected him, "the _the_ is what draws the ears,"

"Yes, luckily they're not drawn first by their other four senses," Dorian shrugged, "But, Bull I waved you over here for more than harmless flirting; our short friend here needs a _stiff_ drink."

"I'll see what I can whip up."

Bull sauntered away, back towards the bar as Varric noted him slipping behind it and beginning to mix drinks.

A wiry, masculine figure approached their table with a jug of water in hand, "What'dja call the codgery old asshole over for this time? Did you catch him spitting in your drink?"

"Don't worry about it, Cremisius, we were just giving him a hard time after his unwarranted smoke break." Dorian chuckled, waving their actual waiter away for the moment.

Part of Varric longed to slip away and wallow in his misery; the other part of him watched as the Iron Bull returned quite quickly with an array of different drinks, ranging from a bright red, molten looking liquid, to a rather benign looking whiskey tumbler.

"Drinks are on me," the Iron Bull shrugged, setting the tray down on the table in front of them, "As you look like you were on the ass end of an emotional ass kicking."

Without a word, Varric took the whiskey tumbler and knocked it back in a quick go.

"That was _supposed_ to be a sipping whiskey, though," the Iron Bull outright grinned.

Varric coughed, "Now you tell me," and managed a grin when Evinn pounded him lightly on the back.

"Looks like you're more interested in getting fucked up fast," Dorian chuckled, doling shots out to the rest of the table, and raising a toast.

They drank to friends, to fights and to the upcoming arts festival.

It turned out that the professor Solas, had, in curating, found pieces by each artist to exhibit; a fact that Dorian scoffed at.

" _You_ , I'm not surprised at," He said, after a few more drinks and a loosened lip, "What with you being his little protege-- his pet project,"

"Dorian..." Evinn cautioned, frowning slightly.

"Sorry. I just-- the _nerve_ of that man. He's supposed to be this great art historian, and he's just so... _boring_."

Varric laughed, the sound accented by a drunken hiccup, "He's an _art historian_! What _exactly_ were you expecting?"

"I don't know... Someone who knows enough about the color wheel to properly dress himself?" Dorian responded dryly.

Evinn only managed to half hold in a snicker.

* * *

 

The short man awoke on an unfamiliar couch across from a huddled mass of what he could only assume were Dorian and Evinn-- limbs and blankets tangled together in the midst of a quiet slumber.

When Varric stirred and sat up stiffly, a voice behind him prompted, "Let them sleep a little while longer, alright?"

He whirled around, massaging the back of his neck and meeting the gaze of the Qunari bartender from the night before.

"The Iron Bull?"

"You blacked out last night," Iron Bull grinned, filling in the blanks for him, "Come into the kitchen-- I've got some coffee and breakfast cooked up."

Without another word, the two men made their way back through a long hallway, and, taking a right, the sun filtered through a dirty window onto the makeshift kitchen table of the shared home.

The Iron Bull made his way to a cupboard, removing two coffee mugs and pouring the liquid with an absentminded grin.

"How's your head," he asked, handing one to Varric.

"Feels like I got my ass kicked," Varric conceded, taking a sniff of the coffee before venturing a sip; it was imported, and he didn't recognize where from.

It seemed like it was cut with something-- _Chicory, perhaps?_

The Iron Bull seemed to pick up on his thought process.

"Imported from Minrathus, and cut with chirocry root to make it last longer-- that's the way Krem likes it. If we don't make it that way, he's insufferable," he sighed, "It's bitter as shit, but after last night, I take it you don't have a problem with bitter things."

Varric could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

" _What about last night?_ " he tried to clarify.

Bull shook his head.

"At one drink, you refused to talk; by drink five or six, you opened up and shared _everything_."

" _Everything?_ "

"Well, everything about a broad named Hawke, and your girlfriend Bianca," the Iron Bull shrugged, "Look, I'm not here to judge. I just thought I'd warn you about what got said last night. Oh! And to give you this back."

Bull reached into his front pocket, fishing out what looked like Varric's keys and cellphone, before putting them gingerly in his open palms.

"We had to wrestle them off of you last night-- you were pretty adamant about not leaving Bianca-- the car-- out for street cleaning. And when I took those away, you threatend to call Bianca-- the person-- and tell her _all about_ the fiasco with the other one... I _figured_ you probably didn't actually want to do that, so I had Evinn take your phone away too."

Varric could feel the color raise in his cheeks, "Thanks for that, I guess."

Bull shrugged, "He wanted what's best for you. He's a good kid. Seems to make Dorian happy, too. It's good to see."

Varric's curiosity was admittedly piqued by the comment.

"What's the deal with the two of you, by the way?"

the Qunari laughed.

"We were just a missed opportunity, I'd say," he conceded, "But from what I've heard, it sounds like you know _all_ about that."

When Varric didn't respond to the jab, the Iron Bull simply sighed, "Your car's out front though. Had some of my buddies make sure it got moved before you got a ticket, or towed. Hope you don't mind."

* * *

 

[BDav 12:12 PM]  
[Varric, please. It's been 4 days.]  
[I get it, I fucked up.]  
[Please don't cut me out of your life just for this.]  
[I don't think I could take it.]

  
[BDav 1:46 PM]  
[I'll try to voice chat you tomorrow morning, ok?]

 

He didn't know why he left the chat program open; perhaps it was just habit. Nonetheless, he knew he wasn't ready to talk. Not yet.

Evinn, after getting Varric's permission, had Dorian spend the night with them a few more times that week. He knew the importance of being a friend in a time of need, but not prying with hurtful questions.

Mostly they spent their nights studying, making art and writing, respectively.

Friday night, they tried to watch the latest episode of the terrible Denerim Cop Drama together, but stopped when Evinn noticed that Varric seemed to withdraw into himself. When the show was turned off, Varric crawled into bed without another word.

Evinn turned to Dorian with a look of utter confusion and sadness as they stepped outside the apartment, giving Varric his space and settling in Dorian's room a few buildings over.

"Did we do something wrong?"

Dorian shook his head, "If we did, we didn't know it. Let him process, Amatus. It's not your job to babysit him until he's feeling better. You're doing whatever you can-- the rest is for him to work out."

 

  
Saturday morning rolled around and Varric was greeted with glaring grey skies and the slow patter of rain on his windows. He was alone in the apartment, his phone chiming as someone's text waking him.

[Birdbrain 11:52 AM]  
[Hey, I'm here! what building's yours?]  
[I'm all set up in the art room, but my school-contracted male model isn't here yet. I've got time to kill.]

He squinted at his phone; _was today the day she was coming into town?_

[ME 11:57 AM]  
[You're here already?]

As the message sent, he saw a call coming through, the sound of his ringtone blasting far too loud for his clouded mind. He debated for a moment before he answered with a groggy, "Hello?"

"Varric!"

Hawke's answer was short, but he could hear the sheer joy in her voice.

"Hey, Hawke. So you're in town, now?"

"That's what I told you, isn't it?" she chuckled, "I just oversaw them dragging my biggest sculpture into the gallery, crate by crate-- they're gonna start assembling him soon. It's gonna be quite a fiasco, getting all that red thread restrung."

He smiled, despite his low mood. After a week, he still couldn't shake the way he felt; betrayed, hurt and bitter.

"Are you busy right now? Do you want to get lunch?"

The question pulled him from his stupor.

"Is it lunchtime already?" He asked with a groan.

"Did I wake you up?" Hawke laughed, "I know its hard to get you out of bed, but come on! It's almost noon!"

His ears burned.

"Shut up, Hawke. I'll be down in a few minutes. Meet you at the gallery?"

"I'll be here,"

He could hear the smirk in her voice.

He hated to admit just how wonderful it was to hear her talk-- how much his chest swelled when he realized he'd be seeing her in person very shortly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a little bit of world building, and a lot of how Varric grieves what's happened with Bianca. Hope you enjoyed nonetheless!


	11. Visitation

**Lighting a cigarette, he smoked as he walked** ; the gallery was on the other side of campus, and it would take him more than a moment to get there. Just enough time to get his nicotine fix, and enough time to think about what to say.

He took a deep drag through his nose, feeling his lungs burn with the familiar flush.

_Hey, Hawke; it's been a while_.

No, too obvious.

He blew out through his mouth.

_You didn't text me back!_

The joke ran hollow in his mind. Plus, it'd be an obvious way to point out the awkward dynamic of their relationship. too forward, after the way they'd left each other.

He pulled the cigarette from between his lips, ashing it as he kept walking, before slipping it back in place. This might be harder than he'd thought.

His time had run out, however, as he crossed the street, catching sight of a head of dark hair and red lips. His heart jumped in his chest as she began to close the gap between them.

Before he could say a word, she stole the cigarette from him and slipped it between her lips; her lipstick stained the paper filter as she inhaled, an eyebrow lifted in a little dare as she blew smoke through her nose.

"Long time no see," she grinned.

"Hawke--"

He could tell she couldn't resist any longer as she threw her arms around his shoulders gently, enveloping him in a quick, tight hug.

"How have you been?"

The question seemed eerily hollow as he mulled over how to answer; how had he been? _Depressed, and undeniably angry. But that wasn't her fault, or something she deserved to get the brunt of._

"I've been... alright," he settled with a sigh, "School's been interesting. My roommate's an artist, also hand-picked by that professor that chose your work-- Solas."

"Cool. I'm supposed to meet him later to discuss what I'll need for my other pieces," Hawke answered, nonchalontly for the most part.

"Do you have a time frame for when that's supposed to happen?" Varric asked, not really knowing whether or not he really wanted to follow that line of conversation.

Hawke shrugged.

"It'll happen eventually. Apparently he's a super busy instructor anyway-- really hard to get a hold of."

"That makes sense," Varric conceded, "My roommate keeps trying to get a meeting with him, with no luck."

Hawke dropped the butt of the cigarette, grinding it under her foot.

"Anyway-- they won't be done setting up my sculpture for at least an hour. Want to get something to eat?"

Varric considered for a moment, before realizing his jacket was quickly getting soaked through, "Sure. Is the dining hall okay?"

"So long as it's close," Hawke conceded.

They set off quickly, Varric leading the way as Hawke trailed slight behind him. She couldn't help but smile, watching his familiar movements as she deferred to his judgement. She knew they might be on tricky footing, particularly after the time he'd announced that he was involved with someone-- but she couldn't stay away from her dear friend if she tried.

When they made it to the dining hall, Hawke watched Varric slip a student id card from his wallet, before sliding it through a reader quietly. She paused-- she hadn't been given anything to provide a meal yet. Varric sensed her hesitancy, before chuckling to himself, and adding a _Plus One_ to his meal ring-up.

"Are they just not feeding you while you're here?" he smirked.

"I'm sure there are accommodations for it--" she protested, "I just have to meet with Solas first."

"Sure," he teased, "Well, if that actually happens, you owe me a visitor pass. What if Bartrand--"

Varric suddenly remembered that in the time he'd been settling at school, and with the drama in his personal life, he'd forgotten to give his _dear brother_ a real phone call, other than the one reporting that he'd made it safely.

"What?"

" _Shit._ I just realized I haven't really called Bartrand since getting into my first couple weeks of school."

Hawke outright laughed.

"You two really don't get along, do you?"

"I--" Varric tried to think of an excuse, before deciding on, "I've been busy."

"No kidding," Hawke chuckled haughtily.

"Shut up," Varric gave her arm a gentle shove, before leading the way into the cafeteria.

They gathered their lunches and began to eat as the cafeteria began to flood with students. Varric sat in the back corner out of habit, and as familiar faces began to file in, he introduced Hawke to the many new friends he'd acquired from his relationship with his roommate. Curly, Ruffles, Nightingale and Buttercup joined them for lunch, eating and chatting, happy to meet someone from Varric's past. He explained their relationships with fond curiosity, much to Hawke's delight. A squeal from across the room caused Hawke to wheel around in surprise, as Cassandra caught sight of her.

"Varric, is this--?" Cassandra sputtered, unable to keep her question from poising itself.

Varric's ears burned as he realized what she might be referring to. Hawke simply looked confused.

"Varric? What's going on?"

"Do not tell me-- you haven't read his stories, have you?"

Hawke's eyes darted across the table to the blonde who could no longer meet her gaze, "Not really, no-- I picked up a copy of of his _first_ serial, but I haven't had much time for reading... why?"

"His publisher, Justinia, introduced me to his works-- there's a character in one story, _Hard In Hightown_ , he describes her just like you-- the dark hair, the ruby lips, and the aura, its just-- spot on," Cassandra seemed to fumble, watching as Varric's gaze turned to an icy, embarrassed silence.

Hawke didn't react as he thought she'd might, however. A slight grin slipped out as her eyes traveled over him, sizing up his embarrassment, "Did he really?"

"Oh, yes," Cassandra seemed almost awed, "Lady Marielle. There's fanart of you online, and--"

"That's _enough_ , Seeker," Varric cut in, curtly.

She realized she'd upset him as her mouth snapped shut.

Josephine diverted the conversation from there, but Varric knew Hawke would never give this information up willingly, and in the back of his mind he knew she'd be curious about how he'd portrayed her in his writing. Any scene he could remember in which he'd placed _Lady Marielle_ passed through his mind. There were more than a few that he'd hoped she'd never find out about. He was mortified.

  
They finished eating as the conversation dwindled to a quiet flow, Varric eerily silent and Hawke thoughtfully finishing the last bite of her food. Dorian sat down as they got up to leave, giving Hawke a little nod, and a questioning look shot at Varric as they passed.

"Who's your friend?"

"Hawke-- this is Dorian Pavus," Varric grumbled, "My roommate's--- boyfriend?"

Varric struggled momentarily over whether or not they were actually in a relationship; everything had happened fast. Judging by the fact that Dorian hadn't flinched away from the word, it seemed he'd chosen correctly, however.

Dorian smiled, "Hawke, was it? Charmed, I'm sure."

"Good to meet you too, Dorian," Hawke answered cordially.

"Great-- let's catch up later," Varric said, grabbing Hawke's wrist and practically dragging her out of the cafeteria, "She's got to meet with Solas soon, anyway."

Dorian chuckled, his eyes following the two as they exited, calling after them, "Good luck getting him to show up!"

  
Outside, the weather seemed to echo Varric's sour mood; the rain had began to come down much heavier now, catching them both off guard.

Hawke squeaked as they were quickly soaked to the bone, "Oh no--"

"Come on," Varric groaned, leading her back to his dorm room as they ran to escape the rain.

Varric let them into the building as Hawke slid her sweatshirt off her shoulders, ringing it out near the doorway. Her hair lay in a wet curtain over her eyes, and she lifted it momentarily to simply laugh at the situation.

"Varric, what are you so upset about?" She chuckled, as they continued to make their way up a few floors, before Varric unlocked the door to his room, and let her slip inside, "So you wrote a character based on me-- big deal. You had to know I'd figure it out eventually. I'm not mad about it. In a way, its kind of flattering..."

Varric shook his head, "It's not really about that, Hawke. Like I said before, I've been _busy_. Things have been kind of rough for me lately, and I've been stuck in this really-- low mood. I can't shake it, and, this just kind of piled on top of it--"

He felt like he was rambling. He watched as Hawke grew silent and serious, her eyes sharpening as they looked him over.

"Are you okay?"

The question was quiet and gentle, but also pointed. His eyes flashed over toward his computer screen; a message flashed, indicating that he'd missed a call from Bianca. He cursed under his breath.

"Hawke-- I _really_ don't want to talk about it."

Hawke sighed, gingerly settling down on his bed and attempting to avoid dripping on his comforter.  
  
"Okay, Varric... I'm not going to pry it out of you. I'm just... glad I got to see you at all today."

He shook his head, joining her on the bed.

"I know... I'm-- I'm sorry, Hawke. I didn't mean to drag you down."

The computer chimed, interrupting them both, as his voice chat program indicated that Bianca was calling, live.

_Shit._

_Fuck._

_Not now._

Hawke watched as he clammed up, hesitating, before standing up and hovering by the computer.

"Is that-- ...?"

He kept quiet, his mouth snapped shut in a thin line, his shoulders wound tightly and fists balled at his sides.

"I should probably...."

Hawke stood up, attempting to dust herself off, before realizing she was still sopping wet.

"No--" Varric turned on her.

"Please," he amended, as the computer continued to chime, "I'll just tell her I'm busy."

He picked up his headphones, popping them into the audio jack as he answered the call, quickly disabling his camera. He noted with muted enthusiasm that her's was intact during this call, however.

"Now's not a good time, B," He practically growled into the mic.

"Varric, please-- I just want to talk!"

Her face, on camera, was stricken with guilt.

"B, I _really_ can't right now, okay? I've got a friend over, and she--"

" _She_ , Varric?"

The words had slipped out without his realizing it; he could hear the incredulous tone in her voice as she processed what he was saying. Even with the low frame-rate, he could see her processing her emotions; his heart gave a hollow twinge as her surprise melted quickly to anger.

"B, we're _not_ getting into this right now. I've got to go."

She tried to backtrack, practically begging him, "Varric, I know what I did was wrong, but--"

" _I'm going now_ , Bianca. We're _not_ having this conversation."

"Varric, wai--"

He hung up with a click, pulling his headphones off and visibly sagging as he turned back to face Hawke. She could see the pain written clearly on his features; this was something he hadn't intended for her, or anyone, to be a spectator for. All of the anger from their previous interaction came rushing back, crashing over him like a wave as he tore off his jacket-- suddenly feeling far too warm.

"Varric?"

Time seemed to slow as, without thinking, Hawke slipped her arms around him and held him tightly. Pure emotion overcame him as he felt her fold around him, her cheek resting on his forehead.

The cold skin dragged slightly.

Varric was still reeling from his moment with Bianca; hurt and anger bubbled in him, and behind his eyes he could feel the pinpricks of hot tears forming.

Beyond all of that, however, he could feel Hawke's breath on him-- very warm, despite the chill that seemed to coat her. It grounded him somehow, pulling him away from the flurry of his emotions.

She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, attempting to decide on what was happening. She knew quite thoroughly that she had crossed the line they'd drawn, and was moving further away with every passing second. Even still, she couldn't tear herself away.

They stayed like this for several minutes, eyes locked, with no sound except their breathing, until Varric felt her begin to tremble.

he found his voice, softly prompting, "Hawke?"

She shook her head, attempting to laugh it off, "S-sorry, I'm just r-really cold."

She wasn't kidding; soaked to the bone, her clothing clung to her frame even now, with goosebumps quickly spreading over any exposed flesh he could see. At last he pulled away, the loss of his body heat stealing her breath just slightly.

  
"What are you doing?"

Her question was answered with a chuckle, as Varric began peeling layers of his own wet clothing off, and hanging them over the post of his bed frame.

"Come on, strip down and get in," He motioned for her to get off the bed as he spoke, before pulling back the covers and crawling inside, wearing nothing but his boxers.

Hesitantly, she began to peel away her own wet layers, and when she was left with her bra and panties, she gave him one last warning glance. He scooted back as far into the bed as he could, his back pressing against the cinder-block wall.

_I shouldn't be doing this._

"Hawke; are you coming, or not?"

_You're going to regret this._

She willed herself to act. Varric lay back against the pillow as she joined him, her cheek resting against his wide chest. As she listened to the soft thud of his heartbeat, his arm wrapped gently around her shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. Their body heat mingled as they lay together in silence, listening to the rhythmic fall of the rain outside Varric's dorm window.

They both knew the moment wouldn't last, but for a moment, it was nice to simply _have_ one another.

Varric looked at the woman lying on top of him, wondering just how to express the emotion he was feeling. It was too complex for words at the time-- He knew he should feel guilty, not only for doing this to Bianca, but for putting Hawke in this situation, particularly because _he_ had been so explicit about them not being physical again. And part of him _did_ feel guilty. But a deeper part of him felt _right._

And that part gave his stomach a nervous twist.

_You're going to regret this._

His fingers slipped underneath her chin, guiding her up to face him. Hawke seemed surprised by the action, her breath catching in her throat.

Gently, his lips connected with hers; the kiss was soft, comforting, and almost lazy in its fluidity. Warmth pooled in Hawke's chest as she reciprocated, the sweetness of the kiss echoed in her actions.

They were no where near as fervent as the last time they'd kissed-- this time it seemed to be more of a soft study of one another. Lips pressing delicately against lips, chins, cheeks, noses-- wherever they could reach at the time.

Even now, no words were uttered between them-- only actions.

Hawke's cool touch had dissolved into a sticky warmth as they remained together under the thick blanket. When their lazy kisses at last broke apart, breathing beginning to run ragged at the edges, she leaned back into the pillow with him, her fingers trailing gently up the length of his arm.

There was a question in her eyes, and her expression was one of curiosity, though she still didn't dare to ask.

Hell, truth be told, he didn't have an answer for her.

_What the hell are we doing?_

The lock of the room clicked as the door was fumbled open, Varric's roommate stepping inside and dropping his backpack at the door, "---Home, are you Varric?"

The sight that greeted him was a very red man, and a tall girl now scrambling to cover herself with the blanket they shared.

"Oh--!"

Evinn began backing up toward the door, stuttering, "Oh no, I-- Sorry-- I didn't mean to interrupt, I just needed my notes,"

Varric wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, but found himself instead pinching the bridge of his nose, his ears continuing to burn scarlet.

"Sorry, Evinn, I..."

"Is this B--"

"This is _Hawke_ , Evinn. Hawke, this is my roommate, Evinn Trevelyan. The one from the art program I was telling you about."

Something seemed to dawn on Hawke as she remembered her obligations for the day, "Oh _Maker_ , what time is it?"

Evinn answered, "It's... Three, why?"

"I-- I should go," Hawke scrambled from the bed, not even really attempting to cover herself in front of Varric's roommate as she collected her clothes. Varric reached down from the bed and tossed her his tee-shirt, casually, "Here-- your clothes are still soaking, and I'm not risking you catching a cold just for visiting me."

She caught it, and while she didn't meet his gaze, he thought he saw a small smile slip through when she pulled the shirt over her head. Dragging the wet pants back over her thighs, she awkwardly slipped her shoes back on as she fumbled in the door frame, "So, I'll call you, when I get out of my meeting-- Let's get dinner, okay?"

"Okay," Varric watched as she nearly bolted out of sight, before leaning back in his bed with a sigh.

  
"What just happened?" Evinn ventured, utterly and completely baffled by the situation.

"Search me, _your Inquisitorialness_ ," Varric shrugged, "Because even _I'm_ not sure what's going on right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else have a Hawke/Varric playlist? 
> 
> One that I write to a lot is my Star-Crossed What-If's playlist (that's my other fic, just in case you hadn't heard of it ;P) ---
> 
> Three songs from it in particular resonated with this chapter for me... they're all kinda heartbreaking though.
> 
> Artificial Nocturne (Metric)  
> I'm a Ruin (Marina and the Diamonds)  
> Axe to Grind (Bastille, Tyde, Rationalle)


	12. Making a Choice

**Surprisingly, Hawke didn't end up calling Varric** until after seven that evening; when she went for her meeting with the esteemed professor Solas, she was promptly introduced to her contracted model; a former student of the college, Alistair Theirin. Not wanting to disappoint, she'd promptly began sketching, and drafting an idea for one of her smaller pieces.

When at last she finished for the evening, the call she placed was answered promptly.

"I thought you might've forgotten by now,"

Varric's smirk could be heard over the phone, even now.

"Shut up," She chuckled, "Are we getting dinner or not?"

"Are you going to be around to enjoy it?"

Hawke smiled as she spoke, "Of course. I'm here until the weekend's done."

Varric seemed surprised, but not upset by the news. As much as she didn't want to get her hopes up, she noted that his mood had seemed to have improved since her time in his room. She still stepped delicately around a question that struck her suddenly as she was putting away her art supplies.

"Hey, so my model doesn't really have any plans after this-- I wanted to thank him for jumping right in-- do you mind if I invite him to dinner with us?"

Varric seemed to consider the question for a moment, before positing, "Was it an _Anders_ style modelling session? Are you thanking him for _that_?"

He was laughing through the receiver, his gravelly voice booming before she could fully articulate, "Varric! I told you, Anders and I _didn't_ do that when he modeled for me.  _Andraste's tits._ "

"Fine, fine. Let him know the room number. I'll meet you here."

 

They decided to split a pizza with Dorian and Evinn, and after introductions were made, they spent the rest of the evening watching movies, and talking about the coming art show. It seemed Alistair was contracted by the school for multiple projects, including Hawke's, and while he wasn't entirely used to being the center of attention in this way, he seemed to enjoy the idea of being a muse immensely. Even so, he decided not to overstay his welcome, departing shortly after dinner. Hawke and Varric were soon left with Evinn and Dorian as they continued to talk and joke as the night went on.

Around midnight, Dorian and Evinn snuck away, claiming they wanted to get their alone time in; Dorian made a quip about putting a sock on the door, to which Varric nearly threw a pillow after him, but it was clear that the couple intended to spend the night away, and out of their hair nonetheless.

Hawke snuck her backpack out from behind Varric's futon, emerging with a pack of cigarettes and a six-pack of a cheap beer as she joined Varric lying in bed.

Varric tentatively opened his dorm window, popping out the screen and watching Hawke amusedly as she fumbled to light the first cig in the package. Ashing it out the window, she wedged the lit stick in the window sill as she popped one of the beers open, offering it to him.

Together, listening to the still quiet of the evening, they smoked out the window and drank.

"You seem like you're in a better mood," Hawke commented, at last breaking the silence.

"I think its your fault," Varric shrugged, "I must have been missing something before."

"Oh?"

She quirked an eyebrow, looking him up and down. She'd missed him terribly as well, but the way he'd said it set her stomach in knots.

"Varric..."

"Hawke-- things haven't really been going well with Bianca," he confessed, at last, "It feels like all we do is fight, and I haven't so much as < _seen_ her, in person, in two years... It feels like she's moving on without me, but..."

There it was.

He'd been working up the courage to talk to her about this since their awkward encounter that afternoon.

"She doesn't want things to end, though, and... Deep down, I don't really know what I want, either. I mean, we've got _so much_ history, and it'd be silly to throw away such a deep connection, but... I just know in our last real conversation, she did something-- unforgivable,"

She heard his voice break, "And it hurt. _So_ bad."

The knot in her stomach twisted tighter as she reached out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, I just...  You're my best friend, and you deserved to know what's got me so on edge."

"I... I'm so sorry, Varric. I had no idea."

"It-- It's fine," he sighed, shaking his head, "I just had to talk to _someone_ about all this."

Hawke couldn't lie; her interests were piqued-- She'd never seen Varric so emotionally distraught.

She hesitated, "Do you... do you want to talk about what happened?"

He took a swig of beer, and a deep drag on the cigarette in the window.

"Yes-- No-- I, it's... It's _really_ complicated, Hawke."

He passed her the smoke, and she inhaled thoughtfully.

"Everything's complicated, Varric,"

"No-- You don't understand," He laughed coldly, tossing his empty onto the ground, "Her parents have _forbidden her from seeing me_ \-- That's _why_ she's studying abroad. And that's only the beginning-- You have no _idea_ how complicated it is."

Hawke seemed genuinely taken aback by this new information.

"I'm sorry," She said, her brown eyes falling to the floor, "You're right. I _don't_ know how complicated it is."

He could see he'd been overly callous.

"Hawke..."

She shook her head, "It's fine. You don't have to tell me everything."

"Hawke."

Varric's voice was stony, resolute, "She's been seeing someone else while she's lived abroad. The guy lives at her house-- he's around all the time, so we can only slip little conversations in here and there, _okay_?"

" _Oh._ "

Varric reached outside, grinding the smoldering butt of the cigarette against the brick building before tossing it into the grass below.

She hated to ask, but couldn't resist, "How long has _that_ been going on?"

Varric's fingers raked through his hair, an exasperated breath leaving him, "A year, maybe a year and a half?"

"What? You didn't just _leave_ when you found out about him?!"

He glared up at her for a moment, the clear and utter frustration in his eyes catching Hawke like a deer in the headlights, "Don't you think I _tried_? You don't honestly think I'm too stupid to realize how _fucked up_ the situation I'm in _is_ , do you?"

"Well, no, of course not Varric, but--"

"Bianca _does something to me_ , Hawke... She knows all the right buttons to press, and all the right things to say to keep me dangling on her leash; somehow she _always_ gets me back..."

"Varric, I...."

She struggled for words for a moment, before giving up and simply patting his arm gently once more.

"I'm just... _tired_ , you know? Of being lonely," Varric sighed, shaking his head.

Hawke stood, slowly sliding her hand onto his back, rubbing small circles into his shoulders.

She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to be. She wanted to tell him that she could take away that loneliness; her thoughts rebelled, however.

_Don't._

_He told you that things between you two had to stop._

_Even if she's the one cheating, he wants to remain faithful._

_It's not your job to get him out of this. He needs to decide it on his own._

"Varric, I think I'd better go..."

The words slipped out before she could regret them more.

"What? Why?"

"The school _is_ providing housing for me when I'm working on my sculptures, and-- well, if I stay, I..." She struggled, her heart hammering under her skin, "I just don't want to do something you'll regret."

A wounded chuckle greeted her comment, "Hawke, I didn't tell you all this stuff to get you to leave."

"No, I know, Varric--" She groaned, cupping her face in her hands, "I just-- It's really hard to find out that you're <stuck> like this, and _not_ want to help somehow. Okay?"

His gaze followed her as she began to pace the room.

"Varric, I don't think you realize that that night we had sex wasn't just some mistake to me..."

His eyes widened as she rounded on him, her voice straining painfully as she continued, "When I found out you were committed to someone else, I had to _really_ talk myself down from doing something else stupid. And today-- that moment, after the rain-- I feel like I'm getting a _lot_ of mixed signals, and I just _really_ don't want to fuck things up."

"Hawke, what are you..."

"Varric, I-- I care about you... _A lot_ ," Her eyes scrunched tightly closed as she spoke, her voice unusually shaky, "And if you want to stay with Bianca, then great! I want to make sure you do so. But if that's the case, I need to _go. Now._ "

_Did Hawke just say what I think she just said?_

Varric's mind seemed to reel in slow motion, processing things frame by frame. Hawke crossed her arms in front of her, seemingly trying to make herself seem smaller. When that didn't work, she turned to leave, grabbing for her backpack as she fought the small, white hot tears beginning to drip down her cheeks.

"Hawke, wait--"

Varric instinctively grabbed for her wrist, knocking her off balance. With a shout of surprise, she fell on her back onto the futon, with Varric falling after her. Her heart jumped to her throat as he caught himself just over her head, their eyes locking.

She seemed concerned, "What are you--"

Varric was struck by the moment; Hawke's hair pooling on the futon beneath her as she looked out the window beyond them, face still wet with tears. Reaching out, he swiped her cheeks clean with his thumb, before leaning in to press his lips gently against her own. There was no hesitancy from her; she responded in kind, her tongue trailing his bottom lip as he slid a hand under her to cradle her neck. Their kiss deepened, becoming more passionate as the moments passed. The rain continued to fall, the noise only interrupted by the heated sound of their movements escalating.

Instinctively, as Varric pulled away for air, Hawke followed him, not wanting to stop just yet. Her hips rolled up against him, eliciting a low groan.

She felt him hardening slightly against her thighs.

His stubble grazed her as he placed his lips against her chin, dragging kisses down the column of her neck. She moaned loudly, feeling his excitement pulse against her once again. She pulled his chin roughly back to hers, their lips crashing together, roughly claiming her prize. Her tongue slid past his teeth, coaxing his to join her, her words swallowed back into his mouth.

"Mmn-- Please--"

He smirked, his scruff running a trail up her cheekbone to rest his teeth against the shell of her ear.

"What was that?"

she groaned as his blunt, wide fingers trailed the bottom edge of her shirt, "Varric..."

She was putty in his hands as he continued to ravish her, nipping and sucking his way down her neck to her collarbones. Meanwhile, his hands found their way up her shirt, to skirt the edging of the cup on her bra, his fingertips ghosting over the delicate flesh of her nipples. She ground her hips into him, hard, in response.

"Maker, yes," She hissed through her teeth, "Please, Varric... I've wanted this so badly--"

  
He shushed her for a moment, a wicked grin on his face as he pointed up to the open window, "I think our neighbors are going to know what we're doing, if we're not a little quieter,"

His little comment dissolved to a frustrated groan, however, as Hawke rutted against him. He was undeniably aroused, now; too much to be making jokes about being heard, at least. Hawke's hand found it's way to his hips, her long fingers trailing the front of his jeans to the outline of his member. She stroked his length over the cloth, her pressure tantalizing him to buck forward just slightly.

It became a struggle for dominance as the two locked eyes once again; Varric helped her out of her shirt as she began to loosen the belt around his pants, the buckle jingling loudly as she pried it off him. Varric got up on his knees as he attempted to shut the window-- Hawke, still beneath him, decided to use the opportunity it afforded her by slipping the button of his jeans open, releasing him to the night air.

His breath caught in his throat as Hawke guided him into her mouth, her tongue gently swirling around the tip of his cock. He completed his task quickly, fumbling the window closed before his hands found their way into her hair, a groan rumbling low in his chest as she pleasured him.

"Fuck," he moaned, feeling the slick heat of Hawke's mouth leave him momentarily as her hand slid firmly around his length in a stroke from base to tip. Slowly, tantalizingly he felt her tongue make a wet trail down his member, to his sac as she continued to pump him, establishing a set rhythm. He felt himself responding to the action, the liquid heat of his passion pooling in his stomach.

He had to slow down.

Hawke couldn't help but chuckle as, seemingly against his better judgement, he guided himself back into her mouth, animalistic instinct taking over as he began to unravel.

"Hawke-- I'm so hard-- Make me slow down a minute, or I'm not going to be much use for you--"

 _Fine,_ she mumbled around him before drawing back. He groaned at the loss of contact, his member throbbing as he ran his hand up it's length, trying anything to sate  
himself into slowing down.

Hawke's form was bathed in moonlight, as a break in the clouds gave way. Involuntarily, Varric's mind flashed with an image of one of Bianca's photos-- their poses eerily similar for a second, as Hawke lay flush beneath him.

He shook his head, willing it away.

He wouldn't let this moment be tainted, if he could help it. He knew how badly she wanted this. Never mind how badly he did, as well.

"Varric?"

Concern flashed in Hawke's face as she studied him for a moment.

"I'm fine," he protested, climbing off Hawke's waist to settle down between her thighs, his knee grinding against her. He could feel her arousal, the heat radiating through her jeans as he began to unbutton them; he helped her slip out, watching as she shimmied her panties off in the same movement. With Hawke's long legs draped around him gracefully, he tested a path around her inner thighs with his thumbs. Gently, he ghosted over the muscle, watching with no small amount of appreciation, that she responded with a pleasured moan, her back arching ever so slightly into the padded surface.

He kissed the small round of skin beneath her navel as Hawke struggled to unhook her bra. At last, she threw the clothing to the ground triumphantly, her nipples erect and responsive as Varric's hand slid up her ribs. Testing, he softly cupped her breast with one hand, as the other spread her heat at last. His index finger gently worked her entrance as he watched her respond; curling to just the right angle, while playing with her sensitive chest. He watched as her eyes closed, a blissful O forming on her lips has he quickened his pace.

"Yes--- Yes-- Please, Varric, oh Maker, yes--"

His thumb trailed the bud of nerves at her entrance and she bucked into his hand, and as his pace became more deliberate, her eyes screwed tightly closed; her words lost coherence.

"M-maker--- ahh---"

He pinched her nipple tightly, eliciting another loud moan, "Mmm-- Please--- Don't stop--"

He could tell she was getting close. His own arousal bobbed with his movement, twitching painfully as he himself begged for release. He slowly removed his fingers from her slick entrance, a small apology escaping as she gave a frustrated groan at the loss of him.

"Do you think we could...?"

"Maker, please," she begged, staring up at him wantonly.

He stood up, his hand running up the back of his neck, feeling oddly embarassed, "Do you have any...?"

Hawke's brow furrowed, until she realized what he was asking, "Ah-- Yeah-- grab my bag, I'll find some."

Varric massaged himself passively with one hand while the other fumbled for Hawke's backpack. He was growing restless, and he knew she was too.

Hawke swiftly opened the bag, emerging with a pack of condoms which she tossed to him, begging that he take over as she attempted to persuade her own arousal to calm  
down.

He opened one as he watched her fingering herself, slowly, almost teasing herself back to the cliff she'd been so close to before. He saw her gaze following his movement, a steady, eager smile gracing her lips as she watched him pump his shaft, readying for the rubber's placement. He took her hand, watching as her fingertip slipped out of her warm, wet center, and sensually he guided her fingers into his mouth, running his tongue over her as he sucked her essence clean. The effect it had on her was staggering; she moaned and her muscles tensed in response. She pulled her hand away and guided the condom into place with him.

He hovered over her entrance at last, willing with everything in his being for this moment to last.

"Are you ready?"

Breathlessly, she nodded.

Her toes curled as he entered, the head of his thick cock slowly embedding itself in her. He took his time, inching deeper until at last he was fully seated in her, their bodies flush. His hands caressed her hips, gently at first, but anchoring themselves as he started to move inside her. Everything was heat, passion, sensory overload as they picked up pace. Varric's thumb slid back to her clitoris, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts, and feeling as she quickly mounted the edge once again. She tightened around him, whimpering and moaning into him as he rutted.

"I'm so close," she gasped, "Don't stop, Varric-- Please, don't stop--"

"I'm close too, Hawke," he growled, gutteral and low, "Fuck--"

There was no way he could slow down now, even if he wanted to.

Hawke came first, the spasms of her orgasm thrusting him over the edge shortly after. He remained in her until her quaking ceased, groaning when at last he unseated himself from her. Their sweat and sex mingled for a moment, as they basked in the afterglow, their breathing normalizing as they cuddled. Varric threw his arm around Hawke and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She was caught offguard by the action; it was a tenderness she hadn't expected, even with the intimate act they'd just committed. Blushing, she looked him up and down, wondering where to go from here.

Did this mean he'd chosen her?

She didn't want to ask, but the question dragged at the back of her mind.

She stirred at last, gently pulling herself out of his arms.

"I'm gonna go... _clean up_ ," she sighed, "Even though I don't really want to."

"I'll be here," he chuckled, his eyelids drooping sleepily.

She threw on a tee-shirt hastily and borrowed a pair of black boxer briefs as she snuck out to the communal bathroom of the dorm. He watched her leave quietly, a small smile blossoming as he thought about the way things had unfolded. He knew that he'd have to face down what was happening between he and Bianca eventually, but for now, he knew he had some time to spend with Hawke, just forgetting the rest of the world.

Varric turned on his side, checking his phone so as not to fall asleep before she got back. When he opened his email, it surprised him to see something from his brother.

[Bartrand@Tethrasco.com]

[Subject: Avoiding me?]

[Varric, It's time to stop avoiding me. It's been long enough, and it's getting juvenile.  
Call me tomorrow. It's time to set aside our differences.]

[Bartrand]


	13. An inopportune opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a climactic moment that stands alone. more's coming, i promise. sorry this update's so short!

**"So, you and the short guy, huh?"**

Hawke quirked an eyebrow as she paused from her work.

"What _of_ the short guy and I?"

"I'm just saying," her model smirked, "That you two were _awfully_ cozy during your pizza dinner."

She sighed, putting her tools down and stretching her shoulders.

"What can I say? We _do_ have a bit of history... But it's complicated."

Alistair sighed, taking an opportunity to shake off the ache in his muscles, "I won't pry, then."

"I want to," Dorian chuckled as he entered the room. His eyes scanned over Alistair as the blonde pulled a thin t-shirt over his freckled shoulders.

Hawke chuckled, "We're just about to grab lunch, Dorian. Join us?"

"No, no, I couldn't intrude," Dorian rebuffed the reply, "I need to work on my piece before classes start again for the week."

Evinn trailed behind the Tevinter, "Oh, did Solas decide to get on your case, finally?"

Dorian's lip curled slightly at the mention of their professor.

"This is entirely separate," he managed through gritted teeth.

Hawke chuckled to herself, "I'll leave you two be, then. I'm treating the illustrious Alistair here to lunch-- any recommendations for places?"

Dorian smiled.

"There's a lovely bar downtown-- the Gull and Lantern-- tell the bartender you know me and he might give you a few free drinks. "

* * *

Varric was still perplexed by the email he'd recieved from his brother.

_Varric, It's time to stop avoiding me. It's been long enough, and it's getting juvenile. Call me tomorrow. It's time to set aside our differences._

What would have prompted the message; was he convinced Varric was avoiding him because of their relationship, or had Bartrand done something he assumed Varric was upset about? As he sat on his bed, staring at his phone, no easy answer came to mind.

After all, it was fairly common of his brother to blow things out of proportion, particularly when he knew he'd done something Varric wouldn't have approved of. The only way to really know was to get things out in the open, just as they'd done many times before.

with a sigh, Varric dialed the number, drawing in a deep breath as the call connected.

"Varric,"

"Hey, Bartrand."

"Been a while."

"Yeah, it has,"

Another deep breath was sucked through Varric's teeth as he contemplated how to continue the call.

"So... I guess you've heard, then. That would make the most sense," Bartrand's voice crackled over the receiver.

Varric quirked an eyebrow, though he knew his brother wouldn't read his expression over the phone.

"Preface this by saying," Bartrand plowed forward, in a self-righteous tone, "That my original intention _wasn't_ to sleight our artist friend in _any_ way, but in fact to _bolster_ her credentials, if you will... while of course, bolstering my own."

_Bolster who's credentials? What was he talking about?_ Varric sat up, swinging his legs over the bed as he continued to listen.

"The old man mentioned a preference for a _certain artist_ , after all, and, well me and my big mouth, let him know I happen to have connections to _that artist's_  protege-- that is, his _direct_ _descendant_ , which intrigued him greatly--"

"Bartrand?"

"... What?"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"A famous art critic, goes by the pseudo name _Corypheus_?"

that name sounded familiar, though Varric couldn't place where from.

"What _about_ this art critic?"

"Don't play dumb with me Varric, you know I wanted to make a deal with Hawke-- This guy like's her dad's work-- A lot! And, she didn't contact me fast enough; when the opportunity came up, I had to show him _something_ ,"

"You _what_?"

Varric's stomach turned as he realized the implications of what Bartrand was saying, "You didn't--"

"You mean you weren't avoiding me because..." Bartrand's voice faded out as Varric's heart thudded in his ears. He got to his feet.

"You wouldn't..."

"Hey, _I_ didn't do anything," Bartrand countered, haughtily.

Varric's voice turned cold as he began to pace, "Then _who_ did?"

Bartrand fumbled for a few moments, attempting to dodge the question, until Varric tried again, "Bartrand."

His brother sighed.

"I paid Dougal Gavorn to go into the art building, lift a couple of sketches-- I didn't know he'd go for the biggest project on the wall."

Varric was disgusted, "So you got the concept sketches, then what? Decided to frame it, hold a showing for this guy?"

"Judge me all you want, Varric-- In this town, in this age, you need some sort of gimmick-- art can be a pretty good gimmick, and it was the best way to pique his interests by a long shot."

"How could you do this?" the words rushed out before he could stop them, "She's _going_ to find out about this; how do you think she's going to react?"

"Honestly," Bartrand's voice was cold, and calculating, "I've burnt bigger bridges over less. Besides, why is this _so horrible_? I've done worse things to you, right?"

Varric growled, "This isn't about me-- you stole something _very personal_ from her, and now you're about to try to pass it off as something you did for the _good of the company_."

"Varric, it was a _drawing_ ," Bartrand tried to reason, "And for what it's worth, it got her _noticed_."

"What are you _saying_?"

" _How do you think she got discovered in the first place_?"

Varric's mind turned as he remembered--

"The art Prof-- Solas--"

"Is another well known _critic_ , and curator. When I turned out to not have _quite_ as extensive a connection as I may have claimed, he reached out via other means."

Varric felt queasy, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Even with all of his faux-justifications, this was the cruelest thing his brother had _ever_  done; the implications were far reaching, and as he processed more of the information, a new wave of nausea crashed over Varric.

"Bartrand, you can phrase this _however_ you want-- this was, bar none, the most _self-serving_ thing you've ever done. This wouldn't be the way she'd _want_ to be noticed."

Another realization.

"She might think _I_ did this for you."

"That's why I thought you were mad," Bartrand offered, "At least, at first."

"Bartrand, if she jumps to that conclusion, she's going to stop _speaking to me_."  
  
Silence greeted this response.

" _Bartrand,_ " Varric's voice broke as he carded his fingers through his now sweat-soaked hair, " _She's my best friend. She's my... We..._ "

 

There was genuine concern in his brother's voice as he asked, "Varric? No... Don't tell me..."

Varric shook his head, the movement again lost over the phone.

"Varric, I'm sorry," his brother backpedaled, "I didn't realize-- Hey, what's done is done! He _likes_ her work-- wants to curate a _whole_ exhibit, with her dad's work from his private collection, and her's, together! A sort of variation on _past and present_. That can't be bad, can it?"

"And what do _you_ gain from this, huh?" Varric spat, "There must be some reason you're doing this? Or is your heart suddenly filled with purely good intentions?"

Sheepishly, Bartrand admitted, "A donation to Tethras Co. from Corypheus would be expected, of course. If we connected such an art aficionado to an up-and-coming artist, we'd of course ask for _some_ patronage."

"You disgust me," Varric growled.

Bartrand sighed.

"It doesn't have to be _all_ bad, Varric. Surely you can see how this could actually  <help> everyone involved. You're a _story teller_ ; if anyone could put a positive spin on things, it'd be you."

When his younger brother made no reply, Bartrand pushed onward, "At least try to get her to _consider_ a meeting, okay? I'll call you sometime next week."

And with a click, Bartrand was gone.

Varric dropped onto the futon heavily, his mind reeling as the room spun around him.


	14. Coming Clean

[Birdbrain 7:15 PM]  
[we're finishing up in the studio for now.]  
[feel like getting dinner before I go home for the week?]

Varric pushed his phone out of view as he hunkered down at his desk once again. He shoved his laptop aside, pressing his head to the desk and racking his brain for whatever response he could muster at the moment.

He'd gone over the situation in his mind what felt like a thousand times-- every outcome was the same; Hawke undoubtedly feeling betrayed-- not only by Bartrand, but by extension, him as well. He shouldn't let this fester, however, as he knew the longer he went without telling her, the more incriminating it became.

Part of him realized he wouldn't feel nearly as guilty if Hawke hadn't found out about Bianca; before, he could pretend to be living the life of a relatively care-free bachelor. Now, he and Hawke had not only discussed the relationship's explicit terms, but they'd disregarded them completely; how did that pan out for Varric's character?

 _Liars get what they deserve_ , an ugly voice echoed in the back of his head, _you knew this would come back to bite you in the ass. Now you've got to live with it._

He groaned, sitting up and carding a hand through his hair in frustration.

_Bartrand could still be right, though. What if that art critic really does help launch Hawke's career?_

He'd gone to the library straight after their conversation, scouring for any information about this guy he could find. There was admittedly little information, but it seemed he was well known in some smaller circles in Tevinter, which was mildly encouraging.

He'd found an article written by Corypheus about Malcolm Hawke's art at a particular gallery exhibit, but hadn't found the courage to read through it yet. Instead, it lay at the top of a stack of other art magazines littering his bedside table. He cast a guilty eye over to that side of the room as he stood up for a moment.

 _I should answer her before it gets too late_ , he sighed.

scooping up his phone, he typed out a quick response.

[ME 7:20 PM]  
[Sorry, I was distracted.]  
[Maybe]

He took a deep breath, glancing at the door.

[7:21 PM]  
[I think I'm gonna hop in the shower first though. that okay?]

He didn't wait for a response, instead opting to grab a clean towel and his rack of sundries and a pair of sandals before barreling out of the room and into the communal bathroom.

He tried to ignore the dirty grout of the shower room; in fact, he tried to ignore everything going on around him as he peeled his clothes off, folding them gently and placing them in a little pile next to his stall. Turning the water on, he waited for it to warm up, letting his mind empty and his shoulders relax. Steam started to billow around the room as he untied his hair, tossing the tie toward the rest of his things, though he gave little care to where it actually landed.

At last, he stepped under the stream, wetting his hair and willing himself to breathe.

_Don't run from this. She's going to want to know-- and it will hurt so much more coming from someone else._

He knew she'd _want_ to meet up for dinner; it wouldn't matter how long he put it off. Especially after last night-- they'd felt so _connected_.

Maybe that was the real problem.

  
He continued washing himself as his mind wandered; when he finally felt clean, he turned the stream off and toweled dry. He threw his pants back on, but opted to carry back the rest of his clothing, his hair laying like a wet curtain around his stocky shoulders.

Opening the door to his room, Varric was utterly surprised to find Hawke laying on the futon, gazing hard at the art magazine that lay open in her lap.

He dropped his bundle of clothes on his desk, "Hawke? What are you doing here?"

"Figured I'd... Greet you..." she said, distantly. Her brow furrowed.

His heart jumped to his throat. He knew he'd be nervous when he saw her, but _Maker, he couldn't have imagined it'd be this bad._

"Whose is this?" She asked, glancing up at him for a moment.

"Mine," he confessed, quietly, "There's some rumor that this art critic who goes by Corypheus will be at the Inquisition exhibit... Figured I'd read up on him a little."

Hawke's demeanor shifted; she was no longer concentrated, sudden anger boiling to the surface.

"There's no way," She growled.

Varric's heart hammered onward, "What?"

"Varric, if he shows up to this thing, there's no way I'm so much as _going in the building_ that night."

_what? why?!_

"H-hawke?"

She laughed bitterly, the sound unnaturally cold.

"Varric... this guy is _bad_ news. Did you get a chance to read this article? The way he _analyzes_ my dad's art... The way he analyzes _any_ art, it all get's slanted to what _he_ wants to see in it."

"How do you figure?"

Varric felt his stomach drop.

"Because; I saw a lot of him growing up," Hawke sighed, closing the magazine and lying her head back onto the futon, "He seemed harmless at first, inviting dad out for coffee to talk about his inspiration, things like that-- I guess this article was one of the first few times, but... Then things got too intense. He wouldn't leave dad alone; he'd hound him for more opportunities to talk, kept commissioning these <really> specific pieces that he never found _quite right_ , and when dad started refusing, he got.. angry."

_Oh. Shit._

She took a deep breath.

"He started blackmailing our family, to get dad to cooperate. In fact, the night dad and Bethany died was before a big show, curated by this guy. He threatened to do something _big_ if dad didn't comply, and, fearing for the family's safety, dad went along with it. He and Bethany were driving up the night before, and Mom, Carver and I were supposed to come up the next night-- to make the best out of rotten circumstances, I guess. When he never made it up to the show, this guy decided to instead capitalize on his death-- seeing that the prices of dad's art were jacked up because of the _tragedy_. This guy's the scum of the earth, Varric."

"Wow.... _Shit_ ," Varric breathed, his hand rubbing hard at the back of his neck.

Hawke sighed, shakily.

"It---it's fine, Varric. Like you said, it's just a rumor. For all we know, I'm worried over _nothing_. I'll ask Professor Solas about it the next time I see him,"

_No. Bad. If she asks him, Professor Solas could point her back to Bartrand._

Varric attempted to compress the wave of anxiety that brushed over him.

"Let's go to dinner, though. Alright?" She prompted, clearly attempting to smile at him while putting the magazine down and standing.

"Y-yeah," he nodded, "I guess it's about that time."

  
Wordlessly, he followed Hawke out the door. They walked around town as the sun set, and as evening fell, they decided on a small, modern restaurant. Varric felt trapped in his own head; how was he supposed to recover from this? Hawke was _going_ to find out about Bartrand's mistake-- _one way or another_. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff; should he wait to be pushed, or jump off on his own?

At the end of the meal, Hawke finally broke down.

"Varric, _what is going on with you_?"

He looked utterly shell-shocked by the question, his heart stuttering in his throat.

"You're acting weird, you hardly touched your food... You seem really... _distant_ ," She motioned quietly, "Are you all right?"

His throat was dry, "Hawke, I..."

When the words didn't come, he stalled for time, reaching for a glass of water and taking a deep drought.

She shook her head.

"I can't believe it."

He looked her up and down with a furrowed brow as she stood up, tossing a few bills on the table.

"I... I _knew_ we shouldn't have done-- I _knew_ you'd get weird-- about _this_ ," She groaned, gathering her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, "I don't know what I expected."

"What?"

"Varric, it-- it's fine," even as she struggled to gain composure, he could tell she was fraying at the edges, "I-- When I came up here, I just wanted to be around you. I'm--- I'm sorry. I must have made things..."

_wait._

_Did she think his reactions were because of their previous night's.... engagements?_

"Dinner's on me," She mumbled, already a few steps ahead of him, "I guess I'll see you around."

"Hawke, wait--"

his mind whirled, processing the idea that she was running off of misinformation. She was gone before he could pursue, frozen in place by the sheer amount of miscommunication that had just occurred.

  
Varric arrived back home a few short hours later, after a few snap decision drinks, feeling thoroughly inebriated but not overly enthusiastic.

The thought hadn't even ocurred to him that she might take his brooding as indecision about <them>. In the heat of the moment, he hadn't even _considered_ that to be a thing that could happen. Looking back now, he wondered; why  <wasn't> he concerned about that? Did that mean he'd made a choice after all?

He knew Hawke was important to him, that much was true, but what about Bianca?

Somewhat guiltily, he realized that she'd been shuffled to the back of his mind when all of this new drama had surfaced. Did that mean he was preparing to move on? that would be the healthy thing to do-- just end things after she'd hurt him... But it was as he'd explained it to Hawke-- before they'd been intimate-- every time he tried to pull away in the past, she'd found a new way to draw him back.

The more he thought about this, the more he wanted to stop.

 _It won't matter anyway now that you've gone and driven Hawke away_ , the thought twinged in the back of his mind. _Liars and cheaters, you and Bianca deserve each_ _other_.

He needed a smoke.

Varric sighed, a hand carding through his sweat soaked hair.

He needed to tell Hawke the truth.

* * *

 

When at last she arrived at home, Hawke found she didn't even have the strength to unpack her overnight bag from the car. In fact, it took her upwards of an hour to even pull herself out of the vehicle, apparently content to listen to the heavy thud of raindrops against the windshield; when at last she conjured enough energy to move, she simply pocketed her keys and cell phone, drawing the hood of her oversized sweater over her head as she felt the heavy patter of rain greet her. She trudged toward her new apartment, feeling everything and nothing all at once.

Her thoughts kept circling; she should have known better. She should have _behaved_ better.

Her key stuck in the lock as she attempted to open the door, rattling the old bolt to no avail.

She'd managed to keep it together on the ride home, if only barely, but now with no one around, and no danger to others around her, the tears came quickly and easily. With a frustrated sigh and a strangled sob, she faced the sky, letting the midnight chill of the storm overtake her for a moment.

When she felt soaked through, she at last returned her attention to the task at hand, steadying herself and remembering what her landlord had advised.

_pull forward, shift the lock, then push back._

with a groan, the bolt complied, shifting free and allowing her in.  
  
She peeled the sweater off as she stepped into the meager apartment, letting it ragdoll to the floor as her cellphone spilled onto the couch in her living room. She followed the phone, sitting for a moment and staring blankly at the wall. In her emotional gray-zone, she felt strangely awake, despite the fact it was early morning already.

She contemplated an attempt at sleep for a moment, before getting up and travelling to her tiny kitchen, and fetching a mug and a tea bag.

Her mind flashed an image of Varric, chuckling about the barbaric way she'd always made tea, wrinkling his nose as he put a kettle on for the both of them. She stuffed the image to the back of her mind, angrily, pushing the mug roughly into the microwave and slamming the door.

 _I'm such an idiot,_ she seethed, _getting worked up over this._

As the microwave worked, she attempted to brace herself for morning; soon she'd need to get up and go to class. To be a responsible adult. She slipped off the wet clothes she'd been wearing outside, trading them for soft pajamas, and, letting her tea cool, she sat back on the couch once more, flipping on the tv.

The terrible Denerim Cop Drama greeted her, and for a moment she debated turning it off and walking away.

Instead, she looked at her phone.

2:30 AM.

If she watched an episode or two she might be lucky enough to still fall asleep before dawn and wake up with enough time to get ready for class. She needed to do _something_  to pass the time until morning, after all.

A sudden ringing and vibration in her hand jump started her heart as she nearly tossed it in surprise.

The name [Mr. Smooth] and a picture of a cherry red convertible were displayed in the bright light of the screen.

_What?_

_Why would he be calling?_

_Why now of all times?_

Her first response was to click it away, and ignore the call. She felt a thump of guilt in her chest once it was done, however. She scooped her tea up and palmed the warm mug, sniffing it in an effort to calm herself.

_What good would talking do now, anyway?_

Another ring interrupted her train of thought. Once again, [Mr. Smooth] looked back at her.

Angrily, this time she answered.

"Do you _realize_ what time it is?!" she barked sharply.

"Hawke-- I-- M-Maker... I'm glad you picked up,"

She was taken aback by the softness in his voice; it tore her up inside.

"Varric... what do you want?"

Her own voice was strikingly forlorn, her meloncholy seeping through the reciever to reach him.

He seemed to be psyching himself up as he began, "Hawke, I... I need to tell you something that-- that I don't have a good way of explaining..."

"I get it, Varric," She sighed, "You didn't need to call me in the middle of the night to tell me you've made your--"

"Hawke, _stop_ ," Varric interrupted, "Will you just _listen to me_ for a minute?"

Her jaw snapped shut with a click, leaving him to gather his thoughts in silence.

"I wasn't even thinking about Bianca back there, okay? Something _happened_ and I need to just... Clear the air, alright?"

_He hadn't been thinking about Bianca?_

"I-- Okay, Varric," She sighed, after a moment, "Fire away."

Varric gathered his courage, drawing a loud, deep breath before he launched into his statement. He'd gone over it a thousand times before in his head.

"Hawke, I... The reason I looked into Corypheus' critiques _wasn't_ because of a rumor. Bartrand called me yesterday, and told me that he'd lied about having some art made by you when he met Corypheus at a party, and when the critic wanted to see his private collection and he couldn't back it up, he.... he got desperate."

A breath drew shakily in her ear, waiting for a response showing she followed. When she gave none, he tried to shake it off, pressing on.

"According to Bartrand, he paid some guy named Dougal Gavorn to sneak into the art studio and take some of your sketches... Apparently this guy got ballsy enough to take the biggest one, and--"

Her sharp intake of breath cut his train of thought, though he recovered momentarily, "Hawke, I swear-- I know what your first thought might be-- I know he's my brother, and I know I haven't been one hundred percent trustworthy, but I swear-- _I didn't help him do this to you_. I didn't even _know_ about any of this until yesterday, and the only reason I waited til now to tell you was because I was _afraid._ "

_He was afraid?_

"Afraid of what?"

He struggled for a minute, "Afraid of _hurting you_. We'd just-- I mean, we-- well, you know... And, I-- I didn't want to hurt you. _Like I ended up doing, after all._ "

Varric let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm so sorry, Hawke. Bartrand said that when he met up with Corypheus, and his collection didn't hold up to his bragging, this guy got another one of his contacts to jump in, and apparently scout you."

"... _Professor Solas._ "

Varric tensed over the phone, "...Yes..."

She processed the statement in silence; this was a lot to take in all at once.

_It was no wonder he'd been so absorbed at dinner._

Varric suffered quietly as he waited for a response, inwardly berating himself for not coming forward sooner, and wondering where to go from here.

At last, she spoke, "So where does this leave me?"

Varric gulped back some fresh air.

"Bartrand asked me to get you to agree to a private meeting with this guy, sometime around the gallery opening-- said he wants to host an exhibition of your works with your father's, side by side--"

Hawke's disgusted groan cut the statement cleanly, though Varric recovered enough to interject, "But now that I _know_ how you feel, there's no way I'm making you do that. I'll find a way to get Bartrand off my back, okay? I'm just... I'm sorry things got this bad, Hawke. _It's all my fault._ "

  
Her voice was surprisingly gentle when she replied, "No, it's not," and sighed into the reciever.

Varric held his breath.

_What was that, now?_

"Varric, you're not responsible for what your brother did, all right?"

"Well, no, but I--"

"But you _did_ keep this from me,"

 _those words stung_.

"I know, Hawke," his shoulders sagged.

"So give me some time. I need to think about things."

There was finality in that statement that put Varric on edge, but he pressed the emotion down with all his might.

"I'll wait as long as you need me to," he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I've started an audiobook version of this series on Soundcloud, so you can listen/read while multitasking. Chapter 1 has been posted here: https://soundcloud.com/nornborn/drive-me-wild-chapter-1


	15. Confronted

**Hawke was only mildly disappointed in herself** when she skipped her classes the next day; graduation may have been quickly approaching, but so was the show, and apparently that meant a brush with someone she'd never wanted to see again in her life. So, she bargained with herself, saying that she _had reason_ to skip: one, to speak to Professor Solas, and confirm once and for all that Corypheus would be making an appearance, and two, to approach Bartrand and give him one hell of an earful about what he'd put them through.

The first task was much easier said than done. True to Dorian's word, as she remembered, Solas was infamous for being out of office when you needed him. She emailed him a few times, refreshing constantly, before working up the courage to leave a voicemail. She was sure he would be upset with the sheer volume of her insistence, but it didn't sway her from reaching out. She wanted to know.

_She needed to be sure._

Next came the thing she was dreading.

Hawke called Aveline and Donnic before she arrived at the Tethras Co. building, waiting in a guest parking lot and smoking like a chimney until they appeared.

Varric seemed to be staying true to his word by maintaining radio silence while Hawke took time to think, though she doubted he'd realize that she'd want to confront his source herself. Again, she had to be sure, though she had no doubts about Bartrand attempting to shift the blame when confronted. Thus, she waited for her law enforcement friends to arrive, and attempted to come up with some sort of plan of attack in the meantime.

when at last the familiar brown truck pulled in beside her, Hawke motioned for them to join her in the cab of her beat up car, which they did while casting her a quizzical look.

"Hawke?" Aveline cleared her throat, "You said this was urgent?"

"Yeah," Hawke nodded, "Something's going on with Varric-- he said Bartrand may have been the one who took my concept art."

Aveline looked surprised, "When did _that_ come up?!"

"I-it's a long story," Hawke rebuffed, attempting to remain calm, "But _you've_ had training in reading people and I just _need_ to know for sure. _please._ "

Aveline shook her head, "I'm not sure if I should use this training for your benefit, Hawke."

When Hawke gave her a pleading look, however, she assented, "But if he stole something that belongs to you, I _do_ think it's only right we try to get that back."

Without another word, the three exited the small car, making their way to the front entrance of the industrial compound.

Entering the building proved easy enough, though they were eyed rather intently when they approached the front desk.

"Hi, I'd like to speak with Bartrand Tethras," Hawke asked the woman sitting at the front desk, nervously drumming her fingers against the metallic furniture as she spoke. The secretary looked her up and down a moment, clearly confused.

"I'm sorry, do you have an appointment with Mr. Tethras?"

Hawke glanced back at Aveline and Donnic, her mind running for a moment as she attempted to come up with an excuse, when suddenly she remembered what Varric had told her in the early morning hours, _he was hoping to get you to have a private meeting with Corypheus, to set up some exhibition with your father's work._  She cleared her throat.

"Ah, yes-- I was told to speak with Mr. Tethras about a private audience between him, a certain art critic, and myself. If you'll just get him on the line, I'm sure Bartrand can confirm,"  
  
The girl seemed unconvinced, "I will give him a call then, once he's out of his morning meeting-- Mr. Tethras is _very_ busy, you understand, so walk-ins don't tend to meet him right away..."  
  
"I understand completely; just give him a call when you can," Hawke forced through clenched teeth, turning back to a stiff looking navy blue couch in the waiting area, "Do you mind if we get ourselves some coffee?"

"Oh no, help yourselves-- it's self serve," the girl replied curtly, turning away from them as she cradled the corded phone between her shoulder and ear, sighing, "Tethras Co... May I place you on a brief hold?"

Hawke groaned under her breath, _of course Bartrand would make them wait. It was a sign of how big and important he was. Everything was always about appearances with him._

She tried to not to let it bother her, however. They passed the time for a few minutes by getting coffee and simply waiting in silence. A few old magazines littered the waiting room, though Hawke didn't bother to pick any up, instead opting to obsessively refresh her email inbox for the umpteenth time that day. They ended up waiting for around ten minutes, until the sound of heavy wooden doors creaking open drew their attention.

Varric's familiarly short brother cast an endearing glance over their small group, openly chuckling as he spoke loudly to the receptionist, "Lara, you should have told me sooner that such an honored guest had arrived."

The receptionist's eyes widened, "But sir, I was told that--"

He hushed her before she could continue, however, "Hawke, my friend, let's adjourn to the office, shall we?"

Hawke stood, though she cast a wary eye over the older man, "If you don't mind, I'd prefer if Aveline and Donnic accompanied me, Bartrand."

Bartrand seemed offput by the suggestion, though he masked it surprisingly well, "No no, it's no problem. But if we're meeting, we should hurry. Lara wasn't wrong when she told you I've got a packed schedule today."

They filed in to the open office behind him, watching as the heavy oak doors closed. The office was well lit, with several pieces of art lining the walls; Hawke noticed, with grim satisfaction, that none of them seemed to be her's, however.

"Bartrand,"

She took a deep breath.

"So, Lara told me you're here about setting up a meeting with Corypheus and I, is that right?" Bartrand interrupted, stepping to the far end of the office, where a crystal decanter sat, some sort of bourban filling it to the brim. He poured two glasses, passing one to Hawke while attempting to ignore the other two in the room.

"Cut the shit, Bartrand." Hawke snarled, more firmly this time, "You know why I'm here, and you _know_ I wouldn't agree to anything like that."

Aveline and Donnic watched the exchange in stunned silence; neither of them had been filled in about just what was going on, and thus were at a loss as to why Hawke was being so hostile.

"Come on, Hawke, you're being unreasonable," Bartrand sighed, the tone of his voice eerily similar to that of his brother, "Even _you_ have to realize that this is a big deal. It's an investment in your future--"

"It's _bullshit,_ Bartrand, and I won't be a part of it!" Hawke interjected, "Don't _try_ to sell me on this idea of yours-- I'm _not_ buying it! Now where is it?!"

Bartrand feigned surprise, "What are you talking about?"

"The concept drawing, Bartrand. Varric told me everything, and I want it back. I don't _care_ about any of the _other_ pieces you took, but I want that one back. _Now._ "

Clearly he hadn't expected this much of a confrontation over the issue, "Wait, wait wait-- Just what did Varric tell you?"

"Everything!" Hawke roared, clearly letting her anger get the better of her, "About you getting impatient, about _Dougal_ , everything!"

"Hawke, Hawke, Hawke. Don't you see what's happening here?"

When she gave no answer, Bartrand turned away a moment, throwing back the drink in his hands before setting the glassware down on the desk beside him, gently.

"My brother lied to you," He sighed, almost sadly.

"Why would he do that?" Hawke asked evenly, ignoring the urge to dart a look back at Aveline.

"Hawke," Bartrand chided, looking her up and down, "We both know about Bianca, _so let's call it what it is_ , all right? Varric is a _liar_. Liars will _always_  attempt to save their own skin, even down to the last minute. Think; who gained from both ends of that scenario? I won't deny, I did get the sketches for a private showing with Corypheus-- you know that's the truth, and I'm not going to deny it... But just think."

Memories of visiting her mother's grave flashed before her eyes; Varric _had_ been there to pull her back out of her episode, and it had come at a very intense moment between them-- but that didn't mean... _that couldn't mean--_

"Varric would never betray me like that," Hawke said, betrayed by a quake in her voice; she was nervous what he was saying could be true.

_Stay on message, Hawke,_ Aveline's voice seemed to say, though she actually cleared her throat, "Regardless of Varric's involvement, Bartrand, you've just admitted that you _do_ have her art. We'd like to take it with us. Now."

"I _had_ it, my dear. Meaning that I do not have it any longer," He corrected her, "When Corypheus met me here, I offered it to him as a bit of good-will. I didn't  _know_ he'd simply go around me the next time, to your new curator. So, if you want the piece back, you'll just have to meet with him. Though, I know how much you'd  _hate_  to do that."

"How _dare_ you," Hawke breathed, "Do you have _any_ idea how much that man harassed my family?!"

"Hawke..." Aveline's interjection was soft, grounding the artist back for a moment.

"I guess our business is done here, then," Hawke spat, attempting to reel her temper back in, "But know that if I _do_ end up meeting with this monster, there's no way in hell  _you'll_ have any part in it. Let's go, Aveline. Donnic."

Hawke's petty side got the better of her as she left, her hand swiping over the hardwood of the table she'd left her glass on, trailing the crystal glass with her until it fell to the floor with a crash.

"Oops," she shrugged, turning away and not looking back.

* * *

 

"So, is there any chance you'll tell us what that was about, then?" Aveline asked from across the table while they ate in contemplative silence.

Hawke sighed, taking a drink of her soda.

  
"There may have been some... developments. On the Varric front," she groaned, prodding at her plate of fries with a fork.

"Spill it, _now_ ," Aveline said, crossly, "What was Bartrand talking about-- _call it what it is._ "

"It's-- it's not really _my_ news to share," Hawke attempted to dodge, not looking up, "And besides-- I brought you in to see if your skills could be put to good use! What did _you_ see?"

"Hawke... I want to help you out, but... I need to know the whole story. _Please._ "

"I-- Fine--" Hawke seemed agitated, "Varric and I slept together-- Again. But not before I found out that he's... he's not exactly been... _loyal_ , while he's been in college."

"What?"

"He's been seeing someone-- pretty much the entirety of his college career-- some long distance thing, but its kind of fucked up, because _she's been seeing someone else too,_ behind his back, and--"

" _I'm sorry, c_ _ome again_?"

"His girlfriend; she's got some live-in boyfriend overseas, and apparently _they've_ been together for, like, a year and a half, and Varric's just been _putting up with it_ , and well--"

"Hawke, what does that have to do with what we just saw?"

"That was Bartrand's justification of Varric's character... He didn't _tell_ me about the girlfriend until after the first time we.. did that."

"Oh, Hawke..."

"No, don't-- stop with _that_ ," Hawke motioned, as if warding off the accusing looks of her friend, "We're two consenting adults, we know we're doing-- _something_..."

She trailed off.

Aveline sighed, a hand slipping up the back of her neck, "Well, Bartrand wasn't lying about _one thing_ ,"

Hawke's heart skipped a beat.

"Liars _will_ always attempt to save their own skin, even down to the last minute."

"What do you mean?" She asked weakly, her heart in her throat.

"He was exhibiting some very classic signs," Aveline said, "Standing extremely still, providing too much information, and when he looked at you, he stared unblinkingly for a long time. Hawke, I think he was trying to lead you down a wrong path."

Hawke felt a stinging at the corners of her eyes, blessed relief washing over her. _Bartrand was most likely lying about Varric's involvement, after all._

"But you haven't told us what's going on _over all_ ," Aveline continued, "What's this about Corypheus getting a hold of your art?"

Aveline had been close enough to Hawke growing up to remember the name _Corypheus_ , and the connotation that came with it.

"Apparently they were having a meeting, Bartrand trying to entice this guy to invest in the company by saying he had some art commissioned by my father's protege-- me. When it turned out all he had were sketches, Corypheus took it upon himself to find someone else to scout me. Supposedly, that's this professor at UFA, Solas... I'm tracking that down now-- that's why I keep checking my email."

"So, Corypheus--"

Hawke nodded, "May actually be attending the Inquisition art exhibit. Yeah."

"Oh, Hawke--"

Another sharp look stopped the sentiment in it's tracks.

"Varric's promised he'll find a way to keep us away from each other-- and I figure if I can speak to professor Solas about it, maybe we can proactively find a plan where I can actively avoid him altogether."  
  
"Well, good," Aveline nodded in approval, "I'm glad you're taking steps to actively protect yourself. Is there anything else we can do to help right now?"

"I don't think so," Hawke smiled softly, "You confirming Bartrand's information has helped a lot. Thank you. I couldn't have gone in there alone."

"You're welcome, Hawke," Aveline nodded, smiling back as she swiped a fry from the artist's plate, "I just wish you'd come to us sooner."


	16. reconciliation over time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter setting up for future events! An encounter we've been building up to appears!

**Over the next week as Hawke confronted Bartrand,** Varric was finding it hard to keep his promise of radio silence.

He wondered what she was thinking now, and kept going over their conversation in his mind.

_you're not responsible for what your brother did, all right? .... But you did try to keep this from me..._  
  
He felt foolish, nonetheless holding out hope for better things to come.

Varric buried himself in his studies and homework in the meantime; if he had a spare moment things started to overwhelm him. Resting quickly became restless, and any distraction his laptop provided him was punctuated by messages from Bianca.

[BDav 2 days ago]  
[Varric, I need to talk to you.]

[BDav Yesterday]  
[Please.]  
[It's important.]

[BDav 9:15 AM]  
[Call me?]  
[I'm here whenever.]  
[I just need to talk to you.]  
[Please.]

By midweek, after a particularly grueling seminar, one of the business, and art, professors pulled him aside to check in.

"My dear, your work seems to be catching up to you," Vivienne De Fer noted, sitting down beside him, her presence both dazzling and terrifying, "You look as though you haven't slept in days."

"I'm surprised you noticed," Varric shrugged, "You've a rather lofty reputation, Madame De Fer, and I thought students like me might just slip through the cracks."

"Oh, Mr. Tethras," She shook her head with a small smirk, "You don't get where I am by letting things slip through the cracks. But you, darling, are already known for being an eloquent speaker-- something that was _not_ demonstrated today, unfortunately."

"I... I know," Varric sighed, unable to meet her gaze, "And I will do better, I promise. I just.. I just need a break."

Madam De Fer stood, nodding her approval.

"I'd suggest that you take one, then. Whatever is getting you worked up will pass, Mr. Tethras. _Let it_."

Without another word she stood up, collecting her things and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Deep down he knew she was right.

That night, as he settled in for the evening, Varric lay in bed with his laptop propped open on his stomach. He looked over tonight's messages, guilt tugging at the back of his mind.

[BDav 5:00 PM]  
[I wish I'd never hurt you this way.]  
[I want to remember the good times we had together.]  
[Don't you?]

He sighed, attempting to formulate a reply of some kind.

[VTethras 11:30 PM]  
[B... Of course I want to remember the good times.]  
[I'm not heartless.]

[BDav 11:31 PM]  
[Varric! Finally!]  
[I was convinced you'd decided to give up on me for good.]

  
He couldn't tell if she was attempting sarcasm, or if that was a serious statement. He opted to ignore it in the meantime, as she typed another message quickly.

[BDav 11:32 PM]  
[How are... Things?]

[VTethras 11:32 PM]  
[Things are alright.]  
[Finding it a bit hard to concentrate, lately, is all.]  
  
[BDav 11:33 PM]  
[I'm sorry.]  
[Especially if part of it's my fault.]

Varric snorted to himself.

[VTethras 11:35 PM]  
[You haven't exactly made my life easy, B, but this one isn't all on you.]

[BDav 11:35 PM]  
[Deep down, I'm glad to hear that. I really am.]  
[That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about though, Varric.]  
[Can I call you?]

His stomach churned as the question appeared: didn't he technically make a choice not to fall in with Bianca anymore, by virtue of being with Hawke that night?

His brain rebelled, albeit weakly-- _he really hadn't verbally confirmed or denied any interactions with Bianca... Just maybe choosing her romantically._

Varric let out a shaky breath as he typed out a reply.

[VTethras 11:37 PM]  
[Shouldn't hurt.]

Then he waited in silence for her answer, scarcely believing when the call came through a few short minutes later.  
  
He answered with a short click; Bianca sat in full focus on camera, giving him her smallest, slightly apologetic smile.

"Varric..."

His heart gave a small jump as nostalgia filled his chest. It had been a _while_.

"So..." he began, furrowing his brows at her in an attempt to draw out some sort of an answer.

"Hi, Varric... Long time no speak," She said, quietly.

"Long time no speak," Varric echoed.

"I feel like we got off on the wrong foot when we talked last time," Bianca began, guaging Varric's facial reaction, "And I wanted to apologize... How was your friend? Did she--"

Varric put up a hand, halting her mid sentence, "You don't _really_ want to know about her, do you? She's a _friend_ , Bianca. Prying more about her isn't really a road you need to go down."

"I-- I know, Varric... I just-- needed to talk to you," Bianca sighed, "I know I did something _awful_ to you, and... I wanted to try and make up for that."

"No, Bianca, I--"

She put up a hand to silence him, "I've made up my mind, Varric... I feel _bad_. I didn't mean to hurt you. So, I was hoping to..."

She paused, taking in a deep breath and seeming to steady herself over the camera.

"I want to ask for a second chance."

Varric was ultimately surprised by her forthrightness, "Oh? And what does that mean, exactly?"

"I... I don't know?" Bianca confessed, with a shake of her head, "But whatever we had, I miss it. _I miss us_. Things just felt... off-- wrong-- without you."

time seemed to slow as Varric processed what the small woman confessed.

"Bianca, I... I can't go _back_ to whatever we were doing," Varric confessed, after a moment.

"No, I know-- And I know it's not fair of me to ask, but... That's why I wanted to talk. face to face," she motioned to the camera as she spoke, "No Bogdan around, or anything."

"No Bogdan?"

She shook her head, "No. I... I sent him back to his parent's house. I told him that I need some time to think."

Varric could feel blood rushing to his face, his ears warming with each passing second.

_She sent Bogdan away?_

"And, well... While I was thinking, I realized... you were right. It's unfair of me to ask you to keep doing... _whatever_ this thing is, long distance, so... I bought a plane ticket."

The disbelief mounted when he heard his own voice echo back over her speakers, "You _what_?"

She picked up a white envelope, waving it sheepishly in front of the camera, "Surprise."

"Bianca, _no--_ "

His voice broke as he spoke; there was an underlying terror to it she hadn't heard in years.

"Relax, Varric, I'm not coming into town for long-- I found a convenient way to come back for a school event, and I thought, after I give my little presentation, we could... I don't know, slip out and have dinner or something. What do you say?"

When he looked nervous, she tried again, "Please? I'll have to meet with my parents for part of the visit, but the rest I'm _all_ yours."

Everything about her idea screamed that it was risky, completely reckless, and _very_ Bianca. As much as he hated to admit it, it was still mildly flattering that she was willing to go this far at last to see him. His pride got the better of him for a moment.

"Fine, Bianca... If it's what you really want, I'll have dinner with you once while you're in town. What day are you flying in?"

Happily, she replied, "I'll forward you the flight info from one of my no-replies."

"Sure thing," he sighed back, looking down at his desk and wondering just how it would blow up in his face _this time_.

"Varric. I know it's dangerous, but please... at least _try_ to be excited? I'm  <finally> coming to see you!"

"No, I know, Bianca... Don't get me wrong, I'm excited, but..."

" _Just_ think about it... Okay?"

"Okay, Bianca. I'm thinking about it."

"Good," She smirked, back to her usual mood, "Now... I've got to go, Varric. Talk to you soon?"

"Yeah," he said, quietly, "Talk to you soon, Bianca. Have a good night."

Bianca disconnected, and, alone in the room once more, Varric waited for Bianca's mail to come through. When it did, he stared at the dates in silence, scrutinizing as he realized, _of course_ , what date Bianca was flying in.

_She was flying in to speak at a engineering conference coinciding with the Inquisition art show, because of COURSE it was._

"Shit. _SHIT_. _Shit_!"


	17. Build-up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I know how long it's been, and I just really wanted to say thank you for sticking with me, and please please forgive my lateness! things have been crazy in my life and writing got put on the backburner, unfortunately. motivation is coming back, slowly but surely, and I hope you'll still manage to enjoy my stories! 
> 
> thank you!

**Varric hadn't found the _right_ way to explain to Hawke that Bianca was coming for the Inquisition showing,** but he certainly didn't waste any time in telling her, either. The topic bubbled to the surface shortly after she called him, a week after she'd gone and visited Bartrand, when she'd planned to go back up to UFA and complete her artworks. Varric had spent days going back and forth with Evinn and Dorian, attempting to find a silver lining in what felt like the biggest storm cloud he'd suffered yet; nonetheless, they'd all decided after their talks that honesty, in this case, was definitely the best policy.

He'd decided to meet Bianca for dinner, knowing that she wouldn't take no for an answer, but to set boundaries with her when they were in person, where she couldn't just terminate the communication when things stopped going her way.

All things considered, Hawke took the news better than he'd thought she ever could, though the phone was eerily quiet at first.

  
"Hawke? Are you still there?"

"... Yeah, Varric... I'm still here."

"I'm.. I'm sorry, Hawke," Varric confessed, "I didn't know what else to do, but-- I couldn't take the thought of hurting you like I did, again."

"I get it," she sighed, "I'm not _happy_ about it, but if some part of you can't tell her not to, then there's got to be a reason for you to meet her, right?"

"I--- Yes, th-thank you," Varric sighed, running a hand up the back of his neck, "You're too good to me."

the statement tumbled out before he could stop it, his ears burning as he sucked in a breath of air. He heard Hawke chuckling from the other end.

"I'm really not," Her voice betrayed a grin, "Anyway, I'm already here-- just pulled into the parking lot. I've got to really buckle down and finish this sculpture though, okay? Can I visit around midnight tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," Varric was surprised, "I mean, if you want to-- no pressure, or anything."

* * *

 

"So, that critic's going to be at the art opening tomorrow, huh?" Alistair asked through a bite of sandwich, his gaze soft but pointed.

"Yeah," Hawke sighed, "Solas confirmed that he'll definitely be there-- and that he's likely gonna try to get me to make some kind of deal with him for a show. Maker, I don't want to even think about that," She shivered, crossing her arms and running her hands up her shoulders, attempting to rub off the sticky feeling that accompanied the statement.

"Will you be alright?" Her faithful model questioned, genuine sensitivity in his features.

"I think so," Hawke nodded.

"I can step up, if you need me to," he said, standing and beginning to stretch for their final session, "That way you can make sure you'll never be alone with him."

She seemed caught off guard by the kind gesture, stretching herself as she considered the idea. Alistair wasn't a particularly intimidating man, but he could definitely be considered formidable, in the right situation. Even so, she shook her head.

"I don't think that'll be necessary. Varric said he'd be there for me every step of the way, after all." she chuckled.

"Well, alright. But the offer's on the table anyway," Alistair shrugged, "With my girlfriend abroad, I need to figure out a way to stave off the boredom, anyway. What better way than to watch patrons of the arts stare at my naked body all night?"

Absentmindedly he came over and examined the statue for what must have been the umpteenth time. Hawke smirked.

"Did you send her a picture of it yet?" She poked at him jokingly.

He blushed a bit.

"I did. She said it was a perfect likeness. She's right, you know..."

"Oh, you're just saying that," Hawke brushed off the compliment.

"I'm serious, Hawke," Alistair shook his head, "It's an excellent series. You've got a lot of talent, and... Even though this art critic's a total creep, he's not wrong for looking so intently at your work."

"Alistair..."

"I'm not taking it back," He puffed out his chest, "I wanted to express my thanks for including me in this project for a while now. So... Thanks, Hawke."

"Fine, Mr. Mushy," Hawke groaned, fidgeting with her hair in embarassment at the compliment, "But let's finish this, before the night gets away from us."

* * *

 

True to her word, Hawke worked diligently, and when she broke for the night Varric didn't press her about the issue further; in fact, he lay in bed facing the wall when she entered, and as she slipped into the room quietly, a grin snuck on her face as she noticed that Evinn's bed was occupied with two sleeping faces. Tangled arms were wrapped around each other as their sleeping breath murmured around the room. She slipped into the bed next to Varric, and though he was awake he said nothing, simply relaxing as her arms wrapped around his middle in a quick, short embrace. She shimmied closer to him, slipping off her bra and stuffing it down near the bottom of the bed, doing the same with her pants shortly after.

Varric suppressed a chuckle, at last turning to face the taller woman when her head hit the pillow. Her eyes were closed in a brief moment of bliss as he placed a soft , closed mouth kiss on her forehead, before he turned back over and they went to sleep. They both had early mornings, but promised to share a cup of coffee, if nothing else, before the hectic day took hold.

Varric had classes in the morning, and at some point he had to go to the Engineering symposium to watch Bianca present on the new farming mechanisms she'd been busy studying and inventing while overseas; she'd arrived the day before, and made sure to contact Varric briefly on a burner phone, letting him know just how excited she was to finally see him in person after so long. The call had been met with mixed emotions, but all Varric could really feel was a sense of impending dread.

What if her parents found out she was there to visit him? There was no doubt they knew he'd applied to UFA, as they were never shy about keeping tabs on him in the past, but the fact that they hadn't yet interfered set his stomach on edge like a steel trap. The more time passed, the more nervous, and agitated, he became.

 

 

Hawke, meanwhile, was tasked with the setup of the showing; everyone who was participating in the Inquisition installation wanted their pieces to intermingle in some way, and that meant hours of preparation to make sure everything felt connected, yet unique and organic.  
  
Getting the Red Lyrium figure strung up with the red thread took the most amount of time, but the way she and Evinn collaborated made the painstaking effort worth it-- Evinn's pieces were also sculptures; variations on a theme of green, rifted glass and stone masses with light filtering through them. They cast an eerie glow over everything, the light dancing and making some of the sculptures look as if they were about to start moving themselves. it was spectacular.

Dorian stopped to marvel at the way the pieces interacted, wrapping a thin arm around his boyfriend's middle and giving him a comforting squeeze.

"It's stunning, Amatus," he sighed, placing his head on Evinn's shoulder.

"It really is," Hawke said with a small smile and an appraising nod.

Evinn laughed, his eyes crinkling shut with the effort, "Well, I have you to thank for that, Hawke."

"They really go well together, don't they?" She chuckled.

"They do indeed," came a voice from behind them.

The trio whirled around, finally facing their curator after what had seemed like a long while. The bald man strode in confidently, his arms folded neatly behind him, as he admired the setup with a certain amount of reverence.

"I'm glad to see you were able to pull things together in the end," He said to no one in particular, until his hardened gaze fell on Hawke, his lip curling ever so slightly, "I'm reminded once again why Doctor Orsino felt the need to warn me about your ability to push things until the last possible moment."

Dorian snorted, drawing Solas' eye for a moment, before Hawke waved him off casually, "What can I say? I work best under pressure-- particularly an extra-tight deadline."

With a slight sigh, Solas nodded.

"I do hope that things will progress well tonight," He continued, thoughtfully watching as other members of the art show continued putting in their installations, "And again, Miss Hawke, I do apologize for the... Unfortunate circumstances by which you know our guest of honor. I will to my best to make sure things will not get out of hand."

Evinn watched as Hawke's shoulder's stiffened ever so slightly. He instinctively gave her elbow an encouraging squeeze, which didn't go unnoticed.

Solas' gaze softened.

"Had I known it was such a sensitive subject, I would have--"

"No," Hawke interrupted him, firmly, "I'm not going to make a scene, Professor. Please, don't worry about it."

"Of course not-- I would never pourpusly make such an accusation," He replied quietly, "I merely meant to say that the staff will be on your side, tonight, should anything happen."

"Thank you, sir, but I'd rather just pretend that nothing is happening, if it's all the same to you," She sighed.

Solas nodded.

"I understand. Nothing more will be said on the subject, then. Thank you for your participation, and I will see you all tonight."

With that, he turned on his heel and left them to stew in their own thoughts.

* * *

 

She was mid-speech when he cracked the auditorium door, and while she didn't pause between her words, he watched as the sparkle in her eyes jumped just for him. His heart gave a guilty jolt in response.

Her messages had been fairly clear, after all.

[UNKNOWN 9:15 AM]  
[I go on at 11.]  
[I'd love to see you in the crowd.]  
[Think you could manage that for me, big guy?]

[Varric 9:30 AM]  
[I'll see what I can do.]  
[I've got class until 11, though.]  
[Can you promise me something?]  
[You're parents won't be at the presentation, will they?]  
  
[UNKNOWN 9:45 AM]  
[They dropped me off on campus and went back home, don't worry so much.]  
[I did promise them I'd get a recording of it though, so don't get in the camera's line of sight.]

 

[Varric 10:15 AM]  
[Noted.]

[UNKNOWN 10:16 AM]  
[I can't wait to see you.]

  
He hadn't replied to the last message; in truth, he didn't really know how to. It wasn't like Bianca to be <so> sickly sweet with her messages. Part of him wondered if she was just playing at mushiness, to get him back in her corner. He knew that to be an unfair judgement, however, so he attempted to repress that thought process. Still, seeing her there, in person, just a few tens of feet ahead of him made his heart thud heavily in his chest.

It had been literal years since he'd seen her in person, and the emotions flooded back in raw, intense waves. He took a seat in the farthest corner, pulling his sweatshirt hood up over his head and attempting to disappear as he continued listening to the lecture.

Bianca wore her hair in a simple braid, which cascaded down her shoulder as she avidly pointed at her presentation. She was clearly in the moment, passionately relaying her subject matter with almost exaggerated body movements; the white blouse sleeves under her neat, navy sweater stretched with her as she emphasized her final point at last.

"I will now take any questions," She smiled over her audience, scanning the room and finding Varric's eyes once again. The smile deepened ever so slightly.

Varric smiled back at her, just for a second, before he averted his gaze to the ground.

 _We'll have time to reconnect_ , he thought, _right now I'm just a distraction._

The tug of nicotine addiction in the back of his mind gave him a reason to step outside once more.

  
As he smacked a cigarette loose from it's package, a text message sent a pulse through his pocket. Placing the stick to his lips, he lit and inhaled. The jolt to his system made it no easier on his heart rate as he dug his phone out from his pocket, though he endeavored to do so nonetheless.

[Birdbrain 11:45 AM]  
[Just finished the setup. Now all that's left to do is wait.]  
[I'm impressed with how things turned out, frankly.]

He chuckled, despite his nerves.

  
[Varric 11:46 AM]  
[That good?]

 

[Birdbrain 11:46 AM]  
[I mean, I think so.]

[Birdbrain 11:50 AM]  
[You're not leaving me high and dry tonight, right?]  
[I need someone to buffer me from that creep]  
[and I'm not sure if I trust anyone else with the bullshitting necessary for that.]

[Varric 11:50 AM]  
[I made you a promise, didn't I?]  
[Besides, I wouldn't miss this for the world.]

  
He felt the blush rise in his cheeks as he sent the message, ashing his cigarette and looking around to make sure no one was looking at him. He was caught, however, by a pair of familiarly enticing eyes, as Bianca joined him on the pavement outside the auditorium, smiling broadly.

"There you are," she laughed, quietly, "I thought maybe you left for good."

He shoved his phone into his back pocket, slipping the cigarette back into the corner of his lips and sweeping Bianca into a tight hug, "Oh, come on. When have you _ever_ known me to stay away for long?"

There was no hesitation as she returned the embrace, her fingers gracefully sliding up and down his spine. Guilt barbed his stomach as his heart fluttered; as much as he hated to admit it, there was a deep, deep part of him that missed her. 

"It's been way too long, big guy."

"It has been, hasn't it?" Varric asked, breaking away to drop and grind the cigarette butt against the cement with his foot. He instinctively glanced around for more prying eyes, but found none.

Were her parents getting better at concealing their suspicions? Or was he just being even more paranoid than normal?

Bianca cleared her throat, interrupting his train of thought, "So, do you want to go to lunch?"

Varric sighed, giving her a little shake of his head, "I can't, B. I've got class in about 20 minutes. How about getting an early dinner, instead?"

"Oh, come on, Varric-- I'm only in town for the day... Don't you think you could skip just one day? For me?"

He mulled over the question for a moment, wondering what the right answer would be, when he felt his phone go off in his pocket once again.

"I-- Okay, _just for today_ ," He said, with a shrug. At the same time, he slipped his phone from his pocket, glancing at the unlock screen's preview.

[Birdbrain 11:59 AM]  
[Thank you, Varric.]  
[Honestly, it means a lot to hear that. Especially coming from you.]


	18. Cause for Concern

**Hawke stood in front of the floor length mirror** in Varric's room sizing herself up one last time. Evinn had let her in, allowing her a last moment of solace before she'd be forced to face her worst nightmare at long last.

She wore black pants that clung to her form, and a flowy, loose fitting red top with black strappy shoes. She'd been texting back and forth with Varric all day, though his responses had been sluggish at best.

Jealousy tugged at her mind.

_You know who he's with. Who know's what they're doing right now?_

She shook her head, attempting to dislodge the thought. She needed to trust him. She needed to know he'd be there for her, especially now.

She ran a finger over the accessories on his desk; her most recent message to him was a picture of the two sets, captioned

[ME 5:45]  
[Silver, or Gold?]

Her phone buzzed, after about a half hour of waiting on a response.

[Mr. Smooth 6:15 PM]  
[Gold.]  
[Matches your skintone WAY better.]

She smiled, picking up the necklace, and slipping it on without another thought. Varric always had good taste in jewelry, after all. She indulged a momentary thought of the gold necklace that usually adorned him, resting softly on his masculine frame. Her fingers curled ever so slightly.

A knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts, however, as Evinn's voice rang beyond the door, "Are you alright in there?"

She cleared her throat.

"Yeah, I'm decent, come on in."

When the door swung open, she had to admit she was surprised to see Evinn alone, his gaze somewhat sympathetic.

"Any news?"

"Haven't asked," she answered through clenched teeth, "Don't want to be disappointed..."

Evinn grimaced at the answer; it was painfully obvious that she wasn't the only one bothered by Bianca's untimely visit.

Nonetheless, he quickly dropped the subject, instead pointing to her and saying, "I like your outfit! It's very flattering."

She chuckled at his deflection, but nodded in thanks, "I like red. It makes a statement."

"It also matches most of Varric's outfit's," Evinn teased.

When that didn't quite elicit the desired response, he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well-- it's about that time," he tried again, "Shall we get going?"

"We probably should, shouldn't we?" She sighed, pulling her black bag onto her shoulder and taking another deep, centered breath.

"You're going to do great, Hawke."

The statement was meant as reassurance, Hawke knew, but icy fear bit into her stomach nonetheless. She glanced back down at her phone one more time before they left.

[6:20 PM]

No new messages.

* * *

 

_Why had he let her talk him into skipping the whole day?_

Varric stood in front of the mirror in the restroom of the Gull and Lantern, massaging the bridge of his nose, anxiety needling its way to the surface.

The ride over had been fairly innocent-- in fact, she'd been more than cordial all day.

He had to admit, however, that that made him extremely nervous. Taking a deep breath, however, he mustered all the courage he could to straighten his shirt, fix his hair, and force a smile in the mirror, when his phone went off in his hand.

  
[Sparkler 6:30 PM]  
[The show starts in 30 minutes.]  
[You're going to be there for her, right?]

Varric sucked a breath through his teeth, typing out an answer, quickly.

[ME 6:30 PM]  
[I will.]  
[Bianca and I are finishing up dinner-- I just have to drop her off at the hotel and get dressed.]  
[I should arrive right on time.]  
[Quit worrying, alright?]

  
He regretted sending the last one, since he himself was worrying about just how he was going to pull this off. Forcing the thoughts away, however, he pocketed his cellphone and made his way back to the table, where the check was sitting, his card sticking out like a flag to greet him. Bianca regarded him with a smile as he sat back down, opening the booklet and beginning to sign off.

"Everything alright? You were in there an awful long time, Varric," She teased, unable to resist poking him as she spoke. A glint caught his eye as one of her rings caught some light and flashed delicately.

_Huh. Haven't seen that one before._

He tried to laugh off the question, "I'm fine, Bianca. Don't worry so much."

Snapping the booklet closed, he began to stand, when her hand on his arm gave him pause.

"What are you doing? We haven't finished out drinks yet."

She motioned to the table, where his beer and her cocktail sat, still half full.

"Bianca, I--" He began, when she prompted him again, "Come on. Stay, and finish your drink with me... We only have tonight, you know?"

Varric tried again.

"Bianca, I really can't. My friend, she has that art show opening tonight, and I really made it a point to support her in this. I'm running late, I've really got to go-- So listen, I'll drop you at your hotel, and then I've really got to go, alright?"

She seemed to pout a bit, considering, before she nodded quietly.

"All right, Varric, I get it. Let's go then."

They got up together, Varric waving to Krem on their way out and ignoring the quizzical look cast by the Iron Bull as they passed. He steered them toward the little red convertible parked down the road, fumbling a cigarette out of his pack as they walked. His hands jittered as he lit the stick, passing one without another thought to Bianca as she trailed behind him, but the rush of nicotine flooded him with endorphins, the blast a welcome change from the bitter pangs of worry in his stomach.

Bianca chuckled as she closed the door to the front seat, rolling the window down and billowing smoke out through her nostrils as Varric threw it into drive.

"Wow, Bogdan never lets me smoke," She chuckled-- almost under her breath.

Varric's knuckles tightened around the steering wheel.

That was around the fifth time she'd mentioned him that day, which wasn't too bad of a track record, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. She didn't seem to notice, however, as she continued to smile pleasantly at the scenery which passed them by.

Varric glanced at the clock.

[6:40 PM]

He twitched his lip, blowing smoke out the car window.

_Fuck._

He flicked on his turn signal, recognizing the road ahead-- the hotel was just a few minutes away now. His paranoia about her parents watching them had him cautious, however-- he'd agreed with her earlier that the safest thing to do would be to drop her off a few blocks away. The perfect spot approached, and Varric pulled over without a second thought, throwing the car into park, when suddenly, a ringed hand brushed his knuckles.

"Varric,"

Bianca took a deep breath and leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on his unsuspecting lips.

* * *

 

Hawke perused the snack table as the minutes ticked by; the other artists flitted about nervously as well, but she doubted any of them had quite the same reaction as her. Not even Evinn, who was expected to give a speech welcoming the visitors, contributors and financial backers for the school's art program.

A fluted champagne glass with a strawberry around the rim was eyeing her, calling her name seductively. Part of her wanted to just get drunk, and lose the edge around her nerves. Part of her knew, however, that that could be asking for more trouble than she'd bargained for.

Even so, she figured one couldn't hurt.

Glancing around, she tossed it back, not even bothering to taste it when a broad hand wrapped around her's.

The man behind her chuckled, "What are you doing?"

Even though she recognized the voice, Hawke still felt her heart hammering in her ribcage.

"Alistair?"

She turned to see the tall, impishly freckled boy grinning at her, not even attempting to mask how impressed he'd been that she'd knocked the drink back in one go.

"You took _that_ like a champ," he laughed, "But you might want to slow down-- the night hasn't even started yet."

"In that case, don't you think I should speed up?" She groaned, allowing him to take the glass from her, "I feel like I'm going to be sick, I'm so nervous."

"Well," He smiled, "Generally that's a sign that it's time to _stop_ drinking. The feeling sick, I mean."

She forced a small smile, knowing he was attempting to dissuade her from giving in to her nervousness.

"Whst are you doing here?" She tried again.

He fidgeted his hands as he spoke, "Passing the time.  _That_ , and to do this,"

suddenly, he pulled out his phone and got close enough to her for her to smell his aftershave. It was faint; a bit musky, but altogether a nice scent, befitting his personality.

He pressed his cheek to her face, snapping a quick selfie together, before grinning like an idiot at his own masterpiece.

"And... Send!"

This actually did make her laugh.

"You sure you're not going to make her jealous?" Hawke asked, referring to the girlfriend overseas.

Alistair shook his head, "Her suggestion, actually. Said it might make you smile. Looks like it worked."

Hawke nodded, _I guess it did._

Suddenly, the click of boots on the cool stone floor of the gallery made a wave of fear jolt through her.

"It's time," Solas called, "Let's open the doors and let our guests come in."

* * *

 

Varric pulled away from Bianca, his brows shooting up in surprise.

"Bianca-- What the hell are you doing?"

She furrowed her own brows in response.

"What does it look like? I'm kissing you."

He shook his head.

"Sto-- Wh-- Why,"

She looked hurt by the confusion, "Varric?"

His fingers thrummed the steering wheel.

"Varric, come with me to the hotel."

He shot a look at her, " _What?_ "

"Come on-- Like I told you, we only have tonight together. Then I go back-- I'll be stuck with Bogdan again, and---"

"No, really, _what_?"

_I thought she'd sent Bogdan away for good._

"Hmm?"

"What do you mean, _I'll be stuck with Bogdan again_? I thought you--"

"Sent him away?"

She twisted in her seat ever so slightly as she began to form the words.

"I _did_ , Varric, that wasn't a lie... I just..."

"Bianca?"

His voice was hoarse. He wanted to escape, and not look back. The way her gaze bore into him made him ache.

She sighed.

"I sent him away while I told him I was doing some thinking..."

Her hand raised again to slide her thumb up and down his knuckles. Her ring glinted in the twilight.

"Because he asked me to marry him."

Stunned silence met this as Varric's sweat ran cold. He couldn't even muster the strength to pull away as her hand moved up his arm, to rest at his elbow.

"That was how I was able to slip away for a little while, you know? I told him I needed time to think it over, and if I decided to say yes, then I needed to tell my parents, and---"

The words were only half heard as his heart thudded in his ears.

_Married. She was getting married. And here she was trying to court him back into her life, again._

Her hand dropped, now resting on his knee, rubbing softly.

"Don't you see? It _could_ be the perfect cover for us,"

Her fingers tested the trail just slightly up from his knee to his lower thigh.

"Why don't you come in, I'll explain what I'm thinking, and I can give you something _nice_ ," she said gently.

Varric tensed as he felt her lips closing on his neck.

* * *

 

Hawke watched the digital clock on the wall turn over to 7:15.

_Still no sign of Varric._

She'd recognized Corypheus as soon as he'd arrived; the man wore black, with a red pocket square in his tailored, yet slightly antiquated, suit. He wore a single red crystal earring in one ear, far too reminiscent of her red lyrium statue to be a coincidence.

It made her blood boil.

Alistair trailed behind her as she navigated around the crowd, keeping her distance from him as much as she possibly could. At one point, when he made a movement to step towards her, Alistair gave her a warning, and she darted toward the bathroom, safely escaping and locking herself inside.

She stared at her reflection for a moment, dark anger distorting her features. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against the sink, gently. She fished her phone out from her purse.

No new messages.

_Of course not._

She typed out a message, trying not to let her anger get the better of her.

[ME 7:20 PM]  
[Where are you?]  
[He's here, in case you're wondering.]  
[I'm hiding in the bathroom right now. I'm worried Alistair can only stall him for so long, though.]  
[Get here soon.]  
[Please.]


	19. A chance at Resolution

**Rain began to tap gently on the windshield,** as thunder rumbled overhead. Varric drew back as far as he could in the driver's seat, a thumb smearing the lipstick stain now adorning his neck.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Varric's voice shook undeniably as he pulled away, tears stinging the edge of his eyes.

Bianca slid back in her seat, regarding him with a combination of surprise, hurt and anger.

"What?"

He couldn't meet her gaze, "You heard me."

"I-- I can't believe this," She chuckled bitterly, turning to look out the window as the rain picked up pace, "After everything I've done for you-- Everything I've sacrificed-- For us!"

This time Varric laughed, a short, clipped and bitter sound which forced itself from him before he could stop it.

"Right, _sacrificed_. Because living out of the country with Bogdan has been _such_ a burden on you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She shot back.

Varric couldn't stop the flood of words.

"You weren't going to tell me about the engagement, right? You keep on saying that this was all a way to help us be together, but stop and think for a minute-- what the fuck are you doing?!"

When she had no reply, his anger rose.

"Bianca, I gave up _everything_ to continue to be with you-- I didn't care, when we were talking online all the time-- I didn't put up a fuss when Bogdan moved in, Andraste's ass, I didn't say a fucking word when we started to have to sneak around _his_ schedule--"

"And what, you think that makes _my_ sacrifices somehow less valid?!" She interrupted.

"Bianca, _what_ sacrifices?!" Varric nearly roared.

Her mouth snapped shut.

"From what I've seen, you had your fun stringing me along, alright? You got to have both men in your life, without thinking about the consequences," reigning in his emotions ever so slightly, he sighed.

"But the minute I started to talk about a _friend_ , you get jealous and fly off the handle. The _minute_ I hinted that I was frustrated, that I wanted something to change, you dropped contact with me. It wasn't _fair_."

"So, what? All of this hinged on me--"

"Bianca, don't you get it? It was _always_ about you-- About what _you_ wanted. Maker, all you've been talking about is how much _you've_ had to sacrifice for us! We had something-- a long time ago, and part of me always wanted to keep that alive, but... Things have changed. _You've_ changed, and I've changed. I just... I can't put my life on hold anymore."

His shoulders sagged with the effort of finishing his thought, and for a moment all was silent. When at last he looked over at her, he could see her cheeks shining with tears.

"Varric, I'm--- I'm so sorry," She said, very softly.

"Bianca..."

"I... I'm so, _so_  sorry," she sobbed, crumbling into her hands, "I-- I don't want to lose you, I--"

he moved closer to her once again, leaning her gently into his shoulder, comforting her despite himself.

* * *

 

"Where the hell is Varric?" Dorian asked, swirling the champagne in his glass with a heated flourish.

"I don't know," Evinn confessed, worry clearly etched on his face.

The event was packed to the brim with people, perusing the art and chatting with the artists, all the while unaware of the effort being put in by Hawke and the others to avoid Corypheus as nonchalantly as they could.

When she decided she couldn't hide in the bathroom any longer, she put on her bravest face, along with a fresh coat of ruby red lipstick, squared her shoulders and stepped out into the crowd once more.

She chanced a glance at the clock-- 8 PM.

Varric was over an hour late, and it hurt, but she needed to steel her nerves and accept that he may not show up after all.

_He promised,_ her inner monologue pleaded.

_He's a liar_ , Bartrand's voice seemed to echo.

"Hawke,"

when Bartrand's actual voice rang out to her, it caught her by complete surprise. She whirled around to meet him, when her eyes fell on who accompanied him.

Her whole body tensed.

_No, no please--_

Bartrand waved Corypheus over with him as he crossed the distance between them, giving her his fakest, most dazzling smile. Anything for business connections, it seemed. She shot him a look she hoped screamed _You Complete and Utter Bastard_.

Evinn and Dorian swooped in just in time, falling in beside her as Bartrand tried to wall them out. Corypheus seemed to pay them no mind, however.

"Miss Hawke, what an honor it is to see you at last," he began, extending a hand formally.

Hawke couldn't stop herself, as she stiffly accepted the gesture, no words coming to her. Her jaw seemed locked, as the room felt suddenly immeasurably hotter. Corypheus gave her a cool smile that didn't seem to reach past his eyes.

"I'm not sure if you remember me, but we've met, a long time ago."

"I don't believe we have, however," Dorian interjected, quite boldly, reaching in and not so gently knocking Corypheus' hand away from hers, "Dorian, Scion of House Pavus, formerly of Minrathous."

"Charmed," Corypheus said, his lip twitching ever so slightly, "I was hoping, actually, to get a moment alone with Miss Hawke, however. Would you excuse us?"

It was Evinn's turn to interrupt.

"You're the famous art critic, are you not? It's a pleasure to meet you at last-- Professor Solas told us that you'd be here tonight, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to meet with you-- I read one of your articles on ancient Tevinter deity sculptures, and was wondering if you could clarify--"

Corypheus turned his gaze to the head of the Inquisition art committee, the look he gave forcing Evinn to pause midsentence.

"Ah, yes... You are Solas' prize pupil-- Trevelyan," He seemed almost bored by the statement, "I'll be happy to speak with you as well, _once I conclude my business with Miss Hawke_."

Out of the corner of her eye, Hawke spotted Alistair, whose eyes widened as he stared openmouthed at the interaction. He made a movement to come to her rescue when she shook her head as inconspicuously as she could; it was clear the diversions weren't going to work in this case. If she was to have to tell him off in person, then so be it. She had to face her fears.

She regarded the tall, eerie man in front of her.

The man who effectively ruined her life; the man who inadvertently caused the death of her father and sister, whether he knew it or not. After everything, she needed to see him for what he was. An old man, with money and power, but a man nonetheless.

Men could be toppled; men could be faced, and men could be told no.

"You want to talk to me," Hawke found her voice at last, speaking with a firmness that caused her friends to nearly jump in surprise, "Then fine, let's get to it."

Bartrand looked overjoyed, "Excellent, let's--"

Corypheus regarded the shorter man with a wave of his hand, "No, I want to speak to her alone, away from any <distractions>."

There was almost a level of joy in his voice, which caused a cold ripple of fear to run down her spine. She steadied herself, nonetheless, pushing it down and out of her mind. Without another word, Hawke allowed herself to be steered out of the gallery, down the hall of the art building, until she and Corypheus came upon a bench in a secluded hallway.

* * *

 

Varric and Bianca stayed in the car talking for the better part of an hour and a half; it took a while for her to stabilize, after he finally came out and told her how he was feeling, but after the tears left, she simply seemed curious as to how he came to the conclusion he had.

"I just... I thought we were so _good_ together," She sighed, sniffling.

Varric snorted.

"Good together? Bianca, we've never caused each other anything but trouble."

"Well, I _know_ that, but... We were always _there_ for each other, in ways Bogdan never could be for me."

Varric sighed, carding a hand through his hair, "If that's the case, then what could you _possibly_ see in him?"

Bianca considered the question for a moment, "Well, our first date was arranged by our parents..."

"... Oh."

"But, beyond that... He's smart, kind, and he can give me the quality of life I need, especially considering I'm still going to be in school for a while."

Varric couldn't help but be hurt by this revelation, "... You're staying with him because he's got money? Andraste's tits, _I've_ got money. Your talking about a guy you're going to get married to, B, and if those are the only reasons, then--"

"There's more to it than that, Varric... I can't put it into words, but... There _is_ something he can give me that you _can't_."

Varric seemed slightly bitter, "Then it's for the best."

"Varric, _you're_ the one who's ending things between us, _remember_?"

Varric felt a flush in his cheeks, "Well, yes, but--"

"So, why are you so upset?!"

"It just-- It pisses me off, alright?" Varric groaned, "alright? I hate the idea that you're just marrying this guy to get your parents off your back. Maker knows I don't want to be the third wheel again, but..."

"But it hurts knowing that there's someone else," Bianca finished for him, "... I know how that feels."

Varric felt his breath catch in his throat, "What?"

"I know there's someone else, Varric."

His heart felt like it was trying to pound a hole in his rib cage.

"I didn't think you'd had it in you, up until recently," Bianca confessed, "But when I hurt you, and you stopped talking to me, I... I started recognizing the signs, because of the way I'd been treating you..."

"Ah."

"So..." Bianca stretched, slightly, "If you're cutting ties with me so you can be with her, I guess I can accept that."

  
The statement settled over Varric like a rock on his chest. She knew.

_She knew._

"I... I just have to know though, Varric..."

He braced himself, feeling tense over what she might ask.

"Who is she?"

The question was difficult to answer; he'd spoken about Hawke in passing with Bianca, if only to fill in parts of a few quaint, funny stories he'd told her in the past, but now he felt the need to explain just _what about Hawke_ made her so irresistible to him.

And now, he, the writer, was having trouble finding his words.

"She... Its Hawke," he confessed, after a moment.

Bianca nodded, seemingly unphased.

"You-- You know about Hawke," he began, to which she shrugged slightly.

"I know _of_ her," She sighed, "But not well enough, I suppose. Indulge me; tell me what you see in her."

"well," Varric's mouth felt as dry as cotton, "She's... She's brilliant, Bianca. Smart as a tack, quick with a joke, and all the while just so-- incredible. We've been friends for years, and I never thought things would end up the way they have, but-- We've gone through a lot together. She got me through a lot of my fights with Bartrand, and... Well..."

He struggled with the retelling of the next story, but when pressed, he finally revealed, "Her mom was murdered in her second year of college, and we never thought she'd survive it, but our friends really saw her through it and she didn't just survive: she managed to retain everything organic to herself. She's just got this-- this incredible strength, and I'm just... _baffled_ , really, that she'd want to be with someone like me."

"She sounds like a great girl," Bianca sighed, softly.

"She is," Varric promised, "She drives me... She drives me absolutely nuts-- In a good way. And I need to be there for her, Bianca. This event isn't just her debut into the art world, its actually really scary for her-- this guy, who was _obsessed_ with her dad's artwork, is supposed to be there, and I promised her that I'd help her get through it and try to stop him from talking to her if I could--- Oh _Fuck_ \--"

Varric had finally caught sight of the clock.

[9:15 PM]

He visibly collapsed into himself, despair setting in.

"And I'm _so_ late I may have just messed up any chance I had with her."

The grief in his voice was tangible. Bianca put a hand on his shoulder, softly.

"Varric, it's going to be okay. I can hear just from the way you talk about her, she means a lot to you. You just have to show her that--" 

She swung the car door open, jumping out and closing it quickly, "And I'm sure things'll be alright. If she loves you, she'll forgive you. But you better go now."

"Bianca--"

"Go." She shooed him, giving him a sad smile, "I'm sure she's wondering where you are."


	20. Fever Pitch

**"Now then,"** Corypheus' lips curled slightly as his Tevene accent punctuated his words lightly, "we have a chance to speak, at last. If i didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to avoid me, Miss Hawke."

The thinly veiled accusation fell on Hawke with little effect, however, as she kept her breathing level.

She stared at him with what she hoped seemed like calm composure, though her voice betrayed her true feelings.

"You have a lot of nerve, coming here and seeking me out."

The delight he seemed to take in her frustration aggravated her further, as, with a quirked eyebrow he simply responded, "Oh?"

"You act like I wouldn't remember the man who harassed my father into the trip that ended his life," Hawke hoped the words were scathing, though her bluntness caused no change in the critic's expression.

Corypheus leaned back on the bench, his posture becoming somewhat more lax, "my dear, I think you give me too much credit. Losing such a gift was a tragedy, but to go so far as to claim that I had any--"

"You blackmailed him," Hawke cut in, forcing the words through her gritted teeth, "And made sure he felt like he _had_ to go. I didn't just lose my father in that accident, I lost my sister, too. My family was ripped in half that night-- Does that mean nothing to you?!"

Corypheus watched her as she spoke, the anger and grief flowing into her words as she seethed. He seemed more curious about it, however, than anything else.

"I'm sorry that you feel its my fault," He said, the hollow apology hitting like a sucker-punch, "But look at how far you've come-- You have so much of the same passion, the same _fire_ in you, just like him. You _use_ your emotions, you don't let them eat you alive. _Its fascinating_ \-- It makes me want to see _more_ of what you can do--"

_He doesn't care. It doesn't matter whose life he ruins, he's so wrapped up in his own ideals nothing you say will get through to him._

"You're a monster," She whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Are we resorting to petty insults already, Miss Hawke?" the old man chuckled, "I get it, you don't like me. So, let me just cut to the chase, then."

When she made no attempt to reply, he continued.

"You've been told, by that fool Bartrand, I'm informed, that I was hoping to speak to you tonight regarding a private exhibition of your father's works and your own, from my private collection. I'm hoping we can come to some sort of a deal."

"There's no way in hell I'd ever agree to something like that." Hawke spat.

Corypheus seemed nonplussed, sitting up straight once again.

"Surely you can't be so quick to dismiss such a fruitful offer; I'm a very powerful man, Hawke. I could book the most popular venues, and we could take this show all around Thedas-- with a word, your name would be on the lips of _every_ art critic. You could become a _very_ rich woman."

"I don't do this for recognition," She shot back, "Especially not from people like you!"

"Oh?" He seemed to be growing tired of the interaction, "And would you be so quick to dismiss my offer at the cost of your newfound friends? Solas tells me you've grown quite close to those heading this _Inquisition_ show-- what of them?"

"What _of_ them?" there was defensiveness in Hawke's voice. Corypheus smiled cruelly.

"Perhaps, if we were to come to an agreement, we could find a place to showcase _their_ talents, as well. Would that not be beneficial to everyone involved?"

"I--"

"Consider this," Corypheus continued to prod, " _If_ you were to continue to decline my offer, I could find something, shall we say, _distasteful_ about this whole event. With just a few well placed words, I could destroy so many careers in the arts... And if I were to mention that _you_ critiqued them rather harshly in a conversation with me, well then they _couldn't_ be faulted to assume it was on your head, that theirs did not meet my standards."

Hawke's heart pounded in her ears.

"M-my friends know me better than that," She said, though her fumbling gave no help to her cause.

Corypheus tutted to her, quietly, "Still _so_ obstinate. Have you no shame at all? These are your friend's livelihoods, Miss Hawke. The art world is a terribly difficult one to make it in, particularly for those on the run from their parents..."

Hawke looked confused, "What?"

"Oh, you didn't know? That Pavus boy, he jogged my memory... I've met the Pavuses, in passing. Last I'd heard, he'd run away from home in disgrace. It would be _impossible_ for him to go back, should his art career not take off. _I thought these people were your friends._ "

"We _are_ her friends,"

the voice behind her commanded the attention of the old man, who looked up in surprise.

Evinn glowered at him from across the hall.

"And with all due respect, I think you've far outstayed your welcome."

"How _dare_ you interrupt us," Corypheus got to his feet, suddenly much more intimidating than he'd been just a moment ago, "And insinuate that I'm doing something  _insidious_!"

Evinn closed the gap between them, quickly, "You were _threatening her_ in a public place."

The portly man stood a full head shorter than Corypheus, but did his best to appear equally intimidating.

Hawke, much to her own chagrin, sat on the bench still, squirming in place.

"You're making bold accusations, boy," Corypheus snarled, "In a place where your word has no bearing. I'm offering Miss Hawke here an opportunity she'd be a _fool_ to ignore."

"Hawke has the right to conduct her business how she chooses," Evinn said, carefully, "Foolishly, or no."

Corypheus outright laughed, a cruel little lilt of his voice, "The girl knows what's at stake here, and I'm not leaving until I get an answer."

"The girl can speak for herself," Hawke said, with a deep, even breath.

She'd found her feet and her voice, at last stepping between the two men.

"Oh? And what does the little bird have to say?" Corypheus seemed to taunt her now.

"Consider your offer declined, Corypheus."  
  
With that, Hawke turned to walk briskly away from the old man; he caught her by the arm, wrenching her back towards him and held her there roughly for a moment.

"You're making a big mistake," he snapped, "Don't be a fool--"

"Get your hands off her," Evinn snarled, his cell phone to his cheek, "I'm calling campus safety, they'll be here any moment."

Corypheus looked nervous for a moment, weighing his options before turning tail and running, leaving the two alone at last.

  
Evinn turned to find Hawke staring at her arms in stunned silence before bursting into tears, overcome with the emotion she'd been suppressing up until that moment. His arms enveloped her, leading her to put her head on his shoulder as he rubbed small circles into her back, hushing her quietly.

"It's all right," he said, quietly, "I've got you. He's gone, and I doubt he'll risk another confrontation coming back... I think he realized the gravity of the  
situation when he put a hand on you."

Hawke attempted to stop the sobs that wracked her body, to no avail. through fitful gasps, she managed to cry, "He threatened to ruin your reputation-- he said he'll write some critique that will make sure that you, and everyone else here tonight, won't get work-- and he said that he'd pen my name to it..."

"Hey... Hey, its going to be all right," Evinn quieted her again, "As soon as I heard about his connections to you, I thought he might try to use a threat like that."

Hawke looked surprised, the shock enough to quiet her crying momentarily.

"I looked into it... There have actually been a lot of complaints lodged against him like this... Even a few lawsuits, filed and taken care of privately, but open to public record nowadays nonetheless..."

"What?"

"He's been caught doing this before... After what happened with your father, your mother begged they launch an investigation on this guy, and he's just barely been scraping by since then. Unfortunately, a lot of the evidence that came to light wasn't made public knowledge until after your mom's death, but... I think he was banking on you bringing him back into relevancy in the art world."

Hawke trembled, tears clouding her vision again.

"He... He threatened to take you all down-- he said that Dorian wouldn't be safe, I--"

"Hawke..." Evinn put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Dorian's going to be alright, I'm making sure of that. Don't worry about him."

"But--"

"We'll find our place in the art community in our own way," Evinn said, resolutely, "We wouldn't want to have it handed to us, anyway."

Campus safety entered the building shortly after, joining them as Evinn continued to comfort Hawke. She felt the experience was eerily surreal; Corypheus was long gone, but with physical evidence of an assault, she could bring him to court, and finally have some sort of closure. They questioned her alone, taking her testimony and asking her if she'd prefer to have someone stay with her until she went home, the officers taking pictures of the bruises left by Corypheus' assault. She shook her head, knowing that while she would be nervous, she didn't want to feel like she was under too watchful of an eye; she'd had that experience the night her mother died, and didn't want to repeat it. Even so, she was still a ball of emotion when Campus Safety dispersed. A few officers stayed behind to guard the building as she reentered the exhibit room.

Dorian, Evinn and Alistair swarmed her, in an attempt at comfort that she waved away, instead asking, "Does anyone have a cigarette?"

* * *

 

"-- _Kaffas_ , where are you?! Corypheus just led her out of the gallery, Varric-- He's alone with her--"

The voicemail from Dorian cut off as Varric threw his phone across the car, his hand running frantically through his hair.

_Shit. SHIT. that call came about 30 minutes ago._

He sped back onto campus, having only made one pit stop before his arrival. He hoped it would work; he knew she'd be shaken up from the encounter.

Throwing the car into park at the nearest temporary parking spot, he grabbed the bouquet of lilies off the passenger seat, and broke out into a full run toward the entrance of the art building. Rain pounded his back as, arriving at the front door, he pulled on the doorknob.

It did not open.

It was locked.

Looking further into the building, he could see that the lights in the actual gallery were off-- only the lobby's lights were left on.

The rain continued to pour over him as he stared into the building, shock falling over him. In frustration, he slammed his fist hard against the glass door of the building.

" _Damn it_ ," He growled, nearly under his breath.

Tears stung in his eyes.

"Hey."

Varric whirled around, as Hawke emerged from the shadows, a damp but lit cigarette drooping from the side of her mouth as she regarded him.

"Hawke--"

"What the _fuck_ are those," Hawke asked, an eyebrow quirking weakly at the bouquet in his clenched fist.

"A callback... To another time I let you down," Varric sighed, tossing them to the ground between them.

She looked so tired; her hair hung limply on her shoulders, her clothing clearly soaked to the bone. His eyes drew to the dark bruises on her wrist immediately.

"What--" He crossed the distance between them quickly, "Hawke, What happened?!"

She looked at the ground, unsure of if she wanted to tell him.

"Hawke..."

"He tried to stop me from walking away," She said quietly, after a few moments. Varric's fists balled angrily at his sides.

"If I'd been there, I'd--"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Hawke cut in, a cold laugh escaping her, "Everyone else tried to stop him, first. _No one could_. He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"I--"

"Varric, what are you doing here, anyway? The event's done-- Campus Safety had us close it down after what happened with Corypheus."

"Hawke..."

"Stop," She spat, "Clearly you chose her. You spent _all_ day with her, and couldn't be bothered to make it here in time, so--"

" _What_?" The hurt in his voice made her pause her verbal assault, if momentarily, "Is that what you actually think of me?"

Hawke tossed the dead cigarette butt to the ground, grinding it with her heel.

"Well, what was I supposed to think?!"

"Hawke, I called it off with her. _Everything_. She's-- She's getting married to Bogdan, and I told her I'm done. I'm done playing her games, and I'm done being a  
third wheel."

Hawke was quiet now, her arms crossed in front of her as she attempted to keep herself warm. She kept stonily silent.

"Look, I-- I couldn't make it back in time because she didn't take the news well... She wouldn't let me leave."

"Varric, I..."

"Hawke, please. You've got to believe me..." He sighed, a hand trailing up the back of his neck, "You're the one person I could never lie to. I.."

Hawke looked at the ground, unsure as she contemplated his statement, "I--"

"I can prove it," he interrupted, fishing for his phone before realizing sheepishly that he'd hurled it across the car in his frustration.

"You don't need to," she said quietly.

It was his turn to look on her in surprise.

"I believe you; she was manipulative enough to want to spend as much time with you as she could, even knowing it was her last few moments with you. And... Maker knows  
why, but I believe you when you say you couldn't lie to me. I just..." She sniffled, quietly, "Andraste's tits, I'm an idiot."

"Why?" Varric chuckled, relief peppering his voice. He crossed what little distance remained between them.

"Because. You drive me crazy," She groaned, as he wrapped his arms around her, gently, "And yet, I can't imagine my life without you."

"Come on, Hawke, I drive you wild," Varric laughed, pulling her down to his level and kissing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the steamy Epilogue, which will serve as chapter 21 :) hope you enjoy it!


End file.
